


The Holiday

by WhoInWhoville



Series: Christmastime is Here [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, F/M, Fluffy McFluff, Idris - Freeform, Idris is John's late wife, Movie AU, Romance, The Holiday, but C is only mentioned in passing, but mild angst, but this is my house sorta, christmastime is here, cute little children, happy drunkenness, many other DW characters are mentioned, oh someone is living here?, original character: lucy smith, original character: sally smith, tw: cancer, widower John smith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: International flight attendant, Rose Tyler, really needed a vacation from her continent-hopping life. When she agreed to a house swap with Donna Noble, she certainly didn't expect to find love with widower, John Smith -- or his two daughters. Loosely based movie AU of "The Holiday".





	1. The Time Zone Hopper

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas, [cartersreese!](http://cartersreese.tumblr.com/) I am your Doctor Who Secret Santa. I hope you enjoy this Dimension Hopping Rose AU.
> 
> So many thanks to my assistant elf, [jeeno2](http://jeeno2.tumblr.com/). Thanks for catching the bad stuff, and encouraging me about the good stuff. {{hugs!!!}}

Rose Tyler was exhausted. Bone tired. Her eyeballs felt like marbles. Her heart pounded from the effort of running the blood to her legs to carry her up the short flight of stairs that led to her second story condo.

She was done with Los Angeles, California, the United States.

It was Christmas week, and there were bloody palm trees around the condominium community swimming pool! Fake snow at the outdoor ice skating rink at the posh mall down the road! And the Santa at that mall wore a red and white Hawaiian shirt, green board shorts, Ray Bans, and leaned against a surfboard. His elves showed off their tans in red bikinis trimmed with white fur.

When she finally reached her flat, her forehead dropped against the door with a thud. Her key missed the lock a few times, but finally hit its target. As soon as her feet touched the pristine white carpet, her arm went limp, and her sturdy -- but very well used -- black, airline-approved rolling luggage thudded to the floor. She didn’t bother to look around the spacious, modern room, even though she had been gone for two weeks. All she wanted was sleep, but even her bed was too far.

“Anybody home?” she croaked. She fought against her shellacked, impeccable hair knot. Once free, her blonde hair fluffed out into unnatural waves.

A tall woman with mile-long legs and cascading ginger hair joined Rose in the lounge, mug of coffee in hand. “Lynda’s working a flight to Bangkok, and I’m about to head out to the airport for a long-haul to Sydney. Rory’s my first officer.” She smiled wickedly. “Lots of auto-pilot time.”

Rose yawned so widely that her jaw cracked. “I’m completely done. The flight from Vancouver was absolutely wretched. No food or drink service, so the passengers were grumpy. Turbulence was terrifying. Even for me. Fell right on my bum in first class! So embarrassing.”

“What’s that smell?” Amy sniffed and then shuddered. ”You stink.”

“Thanks,” Rose groused. “Bloke got on the plane not half-drunk. First class, of course. He hit on me. ‘Aren't all stewardesses ready for a good time?’ he says. And he doesn’t even try to hide his wedding ring!”

“Wanker,” Amy muttered.

“And when I politely declined, he gets sick on me! The git. Third time this week a married man has tried to pull me.” Rose pushed her hair out of her face. “Why can't I meet a nice bloke? Single. Normal. It's not like I'm looking for perfect.”

“Take a hot bath. I’ll make you a cuppa.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up," she almost whimpered. "In the last two weeks, I’ve worked LAX to Fiji, Fiji to Tokyo, Tokyo to Calcutta, Calcutta to Vancouver, and finally I'm back in LA.” 

“That’s a lot of flying, and a lot of water time. Isn’t so many flights sorta — illegal?”

“They scheduled me within regulation by like… two hours.”

“Bloody budget cuts.” 

“Finally getting a major break. Two. Whole. Weeks. I think the FAA threatened an investigation and fines, ‘cos everyone I fly with has suddenly been given vacay time.”

“I know the last thing you probably want to do is hop a plane. But maybe you need to go home? Back to England? S’not like you have to pay for the airfare.”

Rose laughed. “Yeah. But Mum and Dad and my little brother are taking a cruise through the Greek Islands over Christmas. Mum won a raffle.”

“You said you want snow. What about a little village? I was talking to another pilot the other day, and he and his wife do a house swap thing when they go on break.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. How does that work?”

Amy explained the process, and Rose was easily convinced.

“Lynda isn’t going to be here much. Neither am I. And our flat is rather nice, after all. I doubt you'll have a hard time finding someone. Make sure you only use this website, though. Danny said they screen the applicants carefully.”

“Thanks Amy," Rose yawned.

oOo 

From the outside, Rose lived a charmed life as a flight attendant for one of the poshest airlines in the world. She’d wanted to see the world, and see the world she did — but mainly through the windows of hotel rooms and airport waiting areas. The job paid a decent wage, but not as much as most people thought. Sharing the condo with two other women made it possible for the three of them to live someplace nice and safe. And the perks were good — free flights and discounted hotel rooms on her off time. Problem was, she never was able to take that off time and take advantage of the free tickets. Until now.

She _so_ needed a holiday. She needed to hide herself away someplace where she wouldn't be called back to work. She needed someplace with no cellular coverage. Someplace quiet. She craved snow, and a proper, real Christmas tree that smelled like the forest. She wanted to be able to order delivery pizza or curry, have a leisurely night at a pub listening to a local band playing bad covers of the hits of the 70s, 80's, and 90's. 

She needed to be in England. Her home.

oOo

"It’s only been an hour, and I got three replies!” She read the first one to Amy.

Looking for posh flat in the heart of Los Angeles for Christmas holiday. Need place for one week. Please send more pictures. Link below to pix of my place. Thanks. - Dave Raus." 

Rose barked a laugh. "Seriously? He wants to trade a week in our condo for his disgusting caravan in Brighton?”

“Deeeee-leeete!” Amy screeched.

Number two was better, but the home was just outside of London in a quiet neighborhood. Not quite the charming country cottage she was looking for.

"Let's look at this one." It was a video message. 

"Hi. My name is Donna... Noble," she squeaked her last name and sniffed. "Sorry." The ginger-haired woman blew her nose. "The thing is, I have to get away." Her voice sped up. "My fiancé left me at the altar a few weeks ago.”

The women both clucked their tongues sympathetically.

“Mum won't stop fawning over me. Dad just pats me on the shoulder. My brother is ready to throw Lance into a pit of poisonous spiders, and then there’s my Grandad, who is an absolute dear.” She sniffed. “But I don't want him to have to put up with me while I'm in this state. Oh this is way too much information. All right. Let me start over. I need someplace with sun, and a swimming pool, and I want a fruity cocktail in my hand, the kind that’s in a coconut shell with a paper umbrella.“

“I’ll stock the liquor cabinet. I like her,” Amy said.

Rose rested her chin on her hand as she watched the woman wipe her eyes and nose with a tissue.

“Granddad has offered the old family cottage for a house trade. It’s located in a village called Flydale North, about twenty minutes out of Oxford in the Cotswolds. I know it isn’t posh, but it’s quaint and cozy — in the good way, not the falling-down-heap-and-it’s-too-small-to-breathe way. But even though it is a bit, well, antiquated, there's electricity and running water—“

“That’s an option?” Rose guffawed.

“The wood burning stove does heat up the place nicely, and there are also two fireplaces, one up, and one down. Granddad promises there’s plenty of wood. Already split. The kitchen is modern enough that it has what you need to cook a meal. Fridge, hob, oven, sink. The bed in the main bedroom is an absolute dream. And the bathtub. Oh, the bathtub. You’ll never want to get out, so bring some nice soaps with you.” 

“Lush,” the women cooed to each other.

And then Donna smiled brightly, and spoke a mile-a-minute. ”There’s no cable telly, but there is a DVD player, and the phone may or may not work for long distance. Depends on the day. But if you go into the book shop down on the high street, your mobile will work.”

Rose laughed at the rambling.

“I’ve attached some pictures to this email.” 

Rose clicked on the images, and with each picture, she fell more and more in love with the cottage.

“Text. Her. Now,” Amy ordered.

Hello Donna, I’m Rose. Looks like we might be a match for the house swap thing. My flat is available anytime you're ready. Message me back to discuss.“

The three blinking dots appeared.

Donna Noble: I’m here. I’m here! FaceTime?”

Rose Tyler: Sure. 

As soon as she hit send, Rose’s computer began to chime.

“Hi,” Rose greeted, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “Seems like you need a holiday as much as I do.”

Amy peeked from behind Rose. “Hi, I’m Amy, Rose’s flatmate.”

“You’re from England, and Amy’s from Scotland?”

Rose nodded.

“Your. Flat. Is. Gorgeous. And please tell me it’s warm in LA right now. I need to thaw.”

“Oh, very warm. Too warm,” Rose smiled, “You need palm trees, and I need snow. Perfect match, yeah?”

“Plenty of snow. Bring warm clothes.” Donna sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Tyler--"

"Call me Rose.”

"Okay then. Rose, I’d like to book my tickets for the first flight I can catch.”

“Amy and Lynda — she’s the third roommate — will be in and out. Mainly sleeping. Lynda and me, we’re flight attendants, and Amy’s a pilot.”

“That sounds brilliant. Really brilliant. Now how do you want to do this?”

The women discussed details, exchanged basic information, and sent each other damage deposits through PayPal.


	2. The House Trade

Rose slept the entire ten hour flight from LAX to Heathrow. And then she slept on the short coach ride from London to Oxford. But she definitely did not sleep in the hired car from the coach station to the cottage in the village. The roads were covered in thick snow and ice, and she was terrified to close her eyes.

“Here we are. 1010 Blue Wolf Lane,” announced the driver.

“You sure? I don’t see any house.” Rose wiped the foggy window with her sleeve.

“If you peek through that crack between the trees, you can just see it. Look, there’s a light on in the front window.”

Rose craned her neck. “That’s sorta a hike. You sure there isn't a drive or something? The snow is about two feet deep now. And I have my luggage.”

“Not that I can see. But there is that pretty gate there. And I’d bet my life that there’s a path if you go right through it.”

“Thanks,” she replied half-heartedly.

“Let me pop the boot for you.”

Rose got out her luggage — no thanks to the driver who stayed in the car — and began the trudge through the fresh, unbroken snow. Her feet were freezing in her canvas trainers, and her jeans were frozen stiff from the snow going up her legs. She aimed towards the welcoming front door that was adorned with a festive evergreen wreath with a plaid bow. She was thankful for the black puffer coat she’d packed in preparation for the snowy weather. 

"Whoooooop!" she cried, finding herself flat on her back, surrounded by a two foot wall of snow... staring up at a sky that was as dark as blue velvet dotted with stars that looked like diamonds.

A surge of pure joy built in her chest until she simply had to let it out. “Haaaaappppy Christmaaaaaas!!!!" she cried out before flapping her arms and legs, making the perfect snow angel in the front garden.

She righted herself, finished the trudge, and found the key right where Donna said it would be, under the red-hatted garden gnome. Now that she was inside and wide awake, she realized just how hungry and cold she was. She had seen a pub as she was driven through the village — not too far from the cottage. It had looked lively and welcoming through the stained-glass and paned windows facing the high street. 

A pair of too-large green wellies were neatly arranged by the front door. “Well, I can always wear a few pair of wooly socks. Better than these." She looked down at her trainers. She frowned, not really in love with the idea of going to a pub alone after nine o’clock, though. She decided to make do with a couple of protein bars she had in her carry-on bag.

She saw the iron stove in the corner, and a fireplace in the middle of the wall. A generous store of split wood was in a perfect stack next to the stove, and long, wood matches were on the mantel above the fireplace. She made quick work getting the wood burning stove going, and then Rose stripped off her frozen jeans and hoodie, leaving them on the stone floor just inside the door. Flipping open her suitcase, she shivered as she stood in her underwear and pulled out thick grey sweats and a heavy white cable-knit sweater. 

“Protein bars, bath, and bed,” she said to herself as she pulled on the cozy clothing. 

She hung up her puffer coat on a hook by the door, and then bundled up her cold, wet clothing to bring upstairs, barely looking around. She vaguely noticed that there were portraits hanging on the wall up the stairs to the bedrooms and bathroom. She poked her head in the bathroom. 

“She was right about that tub. It’s gorgeous. That must be 100 years old. But I wonder if there’s any hot water.” She squealed with delight when she saw that above the tub was an instant hot water heater. It looked brand new. She turned on the water, and felt it until it was just-right, and then plugged the drain-hole with the rubber stopper.

She left the bathroom, flipped on the switch in the bedroom, and took in the sight of the promised-to-be amazing bed. Donna had been right. The mattresses were so thick that it was about five feet off of the ground. There was even a little step-stool. She skipped the steps, and launched herself onto the bed. She sighed as she sunk into two, maybe even three, down comforters. 

“This is going to be perfect.”

oOo

John Smith sat at the far end of the bar. He finished off his scotch in one go, and then yawned. It’d been a long fall term, and the break had finally arrived at one-thirty this afternoon. One glorious month of doing nothing but reading, stargazing, and spending time with his dear family. 

Donna’s wedding two weeks before had been a disaster of Titanic proportions. He scrubbed a hand down his face remembering how he’d felt physically ill for his best friend and adoptive sister. Anger at Lance surged. It wasn't the first time in two weeks he had pondered what it would be like to pull off the perfect murder.

Donna had turned down his offer to spend Christmas with his family, but he could certainly empathize her desire to be alone in her grief and anger.

“Sparkling water.” 

The smiling barkeep slid a coaster down the bar, and put a green bottle in front of his friend.

“Jackson, did you know that astrophysics is a difficult subject?” John smirked.

“He tried to read that book of yours. Fell asleep straightaway. You should sell that as a sleeping pill. You'd make a pretty sum," Jackson's wife, Rosita teased.

"What are you doing in the village anyway? Shouldn't you be home with that beautiful family of yours?”

“They said something about Christmas shopping and chick flicks and surprises.” John chuckled into the soda water. "I've been banned from my own home until tomorrow afternoon." He pasted on a smile.

“That's horse shite.”

“Jackson,” John warned.

“Did something happen today?”

“Another scotch.”

Jackson frowned. “You're not driving are you?”

“Nope. Not driving.”

“Staying at the cottage?”

"Yep. At the cottage.”

John knocked back the alcohol, focusing on the burn as it went down his throat. It was four years ago today that he got the call from Dr. Jones. It had taken one word, and his life had come crashing down. 

"Malignant."

oOo

Rose perused the stack of DVDs until she found one that made her smile. _You’ve Got Mail._ The machine drew it in with a whir, and soon she had lost herself snuggling under a wooly blanket, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire. 

_She's a pill!_ Tom Hanks shouted at the TV while running on the treadmill

The door rattled.

She froze, wide-eyed, and then looked around. An iron poker hung next to the fireplace. In one smooth motion, she lunged for it, and then took a defensive stance, weapon poised like a cricket bat.

The door creaked.

Footsteps shuffled in the darkened foyer.

“Don’t come in! I’m armed!” she shouted.

“Oh! Hello?” called out a man’s voice. 

In the firelight, Rose could only see that he was tall, thin, and had a rather hedgehog-wild hairstyle. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here? I’ve got a weapon! Don’t come any closer!”

“You said that already. I’m harmless. I’m Donna’s brother, John Smith. And I'm rather embarrassed that I forgot that you were going to start your stay at the cottage tonight. Especially considering I came in and split some wood this afternoon. Sorry about the walkway. I did shovel, but the snow has been falling steady all day. Lovely, isn't it? The snow? I love a good snowfall. Love, love, love. Did you like the wreath? I put up that wreath. A Happy Christmas wreath! Chose the bow and everything. Happy Christmas!" John's voice was warm, but his words were slightly slurred.

"Are you drunk?" She waved the poker a bit.

The man blew a bit of air through his lips. "One glass of scotch. No, that's not right. Two. That's all. I'm a wee bit bizzzy. Boozy? Should've had something to eat. But I forgot. Blimey, I'm forgetful today. And a bit boozed."

"Buzzed. I think the word you're looking for is buzzed."

"Brilliant! You're a genius with the English language!" John said.

"The lights. Turn 'em on. I need to see you," she demanded, fighting to keep a straight face. Her face flushed. His pleasant voice, with that amazing Scottish accent, which was turning out to be more than a little bit distracting was nothing compared to the sight of the man with the boyish grin and friendly freckles. And amazingly disheveled hair. There was still a bit of snow on his shoulders, but it was beginning to melt now.

She cleared her voice.

"This is my grandad's place, and I spend the night here from time to time. When I'm boozed, I mean buzzed, or too knackered to drive all the way back to Oxford. Isn't that big, puffy, brilliant bed absolutely brilliantly brilliant and puffy?" He pointed up the stairs.

“Well you ain't gonna spend the night in that bed tonight, mate."

"I suppose I could stay in the guest room. That bed is lumpy and springy and very not brilliant." He shook his head, wrinkling his nose. "But it'll work, too."

"No way. No way are you sleeping upstairs."

He tugged on his ear. "This place does belong to my family, after all. But I'm a very accommodating host." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his long brown coat.

“But you can’t stay here! I’m here! I’m paying for the place," Rose stated.

“Well, technically, you aren’t really paying for it. You made a house trady McTrade.”

“Trady-McTrade?" Rose laughed. 

"I don't think I'll say that again. That's a bit rubbish, isn't it?" 

"I don’t care about the technicalities.” She walked closer.

“Please put that poky thing down. I promise, I’m completely harmless.” He held up his hands, eyes warm and full of humor, reflecting the firelight. But he looked tired. His tie was loosened at the collar, and he had dark circles under those warm brown eyes.

She put down the poker, but didn’t keep her eyes off of him.

He tugged his ear, “I can’t leave. My blood-alcohol level is sufficiently high that I won’t risk getting behind the wheel.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Call Donna. You trusted her enough to let her stay at your flat. Trust her to tell you the truth?”

“Can't ring her. She said there wasn’t any coverage here.”

“Oh. Right.” He hissed through his teeth. “And the telephone isn’t working. Sorry. I was supposed to get that fixed."

“Convenient.” She put one hand on her hip.

“Honestly, you can trust me.”

“All right then, what’s your job?” It was the only question she could think of.

“Professor.”

“Where?”

“Oxford. At King’s. Astrophysics and astronomy.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “See? My faculty ID.”

“Oh.” She furrowed her brow. “And you can’t call anyone to come and pick you up--”

“Because of the phone. And I don't have a mobile. Plus the library is closed.”

"Who doesn't have a mobile?" She screwed up her face.

"Obviously, I don't." He rolled his eyes.

She sighed. “Well I suppose you’ll have to stay on the sofa. But no coming upstairs. It is completely off limits.”

“But what if I need the loo?” he asked, tugging his ear.

“You're gonna yell before you come up, got it? And wait for me to answer. And I’m locking the bedroom door.”

“There’s no lock. Sorry." He wrinkled his nose.

“Then I’ll jam a chair under the doorknob,” Rose countered.

“That only works when the door swings in. It opens out.” He nodded sagely.

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“Ha! No. The opposite. It won’t be all that bad. I’m good company! I’m a great conversationalist. Tomorrow morning, I’ll even go to the bakery and pick up pastries. There isn’t much in the fridge.”

“There’s eggs and milk and—“

“Did you check the dates on those? Ha!” John laughed. “Milk is probably solid. And the eggs are, oh, about eight months old.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” she laughed.

“Nope. I've apparently got quite the gob. I'm good company. And if I'm going to holler up the stairs for the loo, I suppose we should be on a first name basis. Who are you?"

"Who am I?" She snorted at the bluntness of his question. "I'm Rose. Rose Tyler."


	3. The Overnight Guest

At four am, they were no longer strangers. They were friends. And they were laughing hysterically at each other’s stories. 

“And then the bloke says, ‘I thought this plane was going to Venice. What's the pilot think he's doing flying to bloody Cardiff?’ And we weren’t even going to Cardiff. We were halfway over the Pacific, headed for Kyoto.” Rose took a drink of her wine — her third glass.

“How’d he get past ticketing?”

“I have no idea. Some people probably got a bit of a smack!”

Their laughter died down. 

John propped his head on his hand on the back of the sofa. “Maybe I should be a flight attendant. See the world, never touching the same ground twice in a day.”

“I love meeting all sorts of people. The nice ones make me smile, and the not so nice make me laugh after it’s all said and done." She tilted her head to the side. "But I don’t get to visit all of these places. Sometimes the crew gets together and goes for a bite at a local restaurant or something. But I want to go to museums, and see cathedrals and temples and shrines, climb the mountains, stay in little hostels, not big high rise hotels. I want to dip my toes into the cold Baltic Sea, and in the warm Indian Ocean. I really thought that this job would mean real traveling. Not just hopping from place to place.” She sighed. “Sounds like you like to travel.”

“Oh, yes. But I’m sorta tied down right now.”

“You being a professor, I can see that.”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I kept you up most of the night. My inner clock is all messed up. Now that’s one thing I have never gotten used to. Yesterday — or day before yesterday? It’s sorta timeless up in the air. Anyway, I was in Vancouver. Before that, Calcutta.”

“Wow.” He pulled a face. How are you even keeping your eyes open?”

“You’re good company.” She caught her tongue between her teeth as she smiled.

Unable to take his eyes off of her smile, he stuttered. “I said I was good company. Trust me now?”

“I suppose. Have yet to prove yourself while we sleep, though.” 

“Cheeky.” He winked at her. “I haven’t had such a good time in, well, a long time. I’m so glad I met you.”

“Me too."

“I’m a one-drink a week sort of man. Friday after work, I go to the pub and spill my sorrows to Jackson, the barkeep. Had two tonight, though.”

"But you live in Oxford? Why come to a pub all the way up in Flydale?"

"Jackson, he's the owner, he’s a good friend."

“Must be.”

“We've been through a lot together. Known each other since we were kids.”

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, me too.”

"You want to kiss yourself?" She quietly laughed.

He couldn't remove his eyes from her lips. And when she licked her lips, he leaned in. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea though.” She shook her head.

“Probably not.” He frowned slightly. 

“Just so you know, I’m completely in my right mind.” She ducked her head, hiding her sudden shyness behind her curtain of hair. “A little warm and tingly, but this isn’t the wine talking. It’s all me. But still, I don’t go around kissing men that I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours. “

“I haven’t kissed a woman in about three years,” he muttered.

“What?” she asked.

He cleared his throat and flushed.

“But, you’re so good looking!” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

“I am a bit foxy, aren’t I?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She laughed and held out her hand. “This okay though? Holding hands?”

“It’s very okay.”

“I’m sleepy. You sleepy?” Rose asked.

“Yep.”

“‘M too tired to go up the stairs. I’m gonna sleep right here.” 

John froze for a moment as she pulled his hand into her lap, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nighty-night,” she whispered.

oOo 

Rose woke up under a fluffy down duvet, but she was on the sofa. The fire was blazing, and the smell of fresh, strong coffee was wafting from the kitchen. She smacked her lips, lifted her head, and strained to remember why she wasn’t upstairs in that fabulous bed.

“Oh." She held her head. As headaches go, it wasn't too bad, but she still didn’t feel one hundred percent. Wine happened, didn't it? And that gorgeous bloke.

She sat up, wide-eyed in a bit of a panic. She searched her memory for evidence of any intimate activities. She pinched her lips together realizing she wasn't wearing those grey sweats and cable knit pullover from last night. She gasped, and then ducked her head under the covers to take a peek. She saw skimpy sleep shorts and a thin camisole. She squeaked. Changing into sleep clothes doesn't mean something happened, she thought to herself. "They're just sleep clothes," she said.

"You went upstairs and changed. You said your pullover was scratchy. And then you dragged the down comforter down," he grinned. "You dragged the down, down!". 

Rose couldn't help but laugh.

“You said my shoulder was comfier than that really great bed upstairs." He took one step closer. And lowered his voice. "But... I can tell you from experience, it is a really great bed."

She flushed at the hint of a very sensual something in his voice.

He placed the two mugs of coffee on a side table. "And from the momentary look of panic on your face, you woke up with the same question that I did."

She shifted nervously under the duvet-cape, wrapping it a bit more tightly around her body.

"It was a completely innocent evening."

"How can you be sure?" Rose said, voice cracking from sleep.

"Oh, I'd remember a night with you, Rose Tyler. Plus, I have a very good memory." He tapped his forehead.

Rose laughed, her breathing returning to normal, and his face split into a cheerful grin.

"I promised breakfast. The tartlets are raspberry, and the muffins are banana."

She took one of each, and tried the raspberry pastry first. She hummed, holding her hand to her mouth. "This is gorgeous!"

John smiled, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pleased with her approval. “So. New in town. What are your plans?” he asked, sitting next to her, grabbing a banana muffin.

“Don’t have any. Oh, this is good coffee. What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly nine.” 

“No matter how many time zones I cross, I’ll never get used to the jet lag.” Rose groaned, and rubbed one eye with her palm. “It’s one am in LA.” 

He paused and tugged his ear. “I forgot that you're from Los Angeles.” He broke eye contact.

“Mm hmm.” 

“Of course I'd meet someone who is an international flight attendant who lives eight time zones away." John lowered his eyebrows and glanced out the window.

“Yeah." Rose took a sip of coffee. "But London’s home. That’s where my family is, but when I signed on with TorchAir, they based me in Los Angeles. Came as a surprise, but I was so anxious to get away from home that I didn’t think twice about accepting the job. Mum said I may as well have been running off to join the circus.

“Speaking of circuses, I best be off.” John put down his coffee, slapped his thighs and stood. “Need to get home to my girls before they start pretending to be trapeze artists.”

“Your girls? What do you mean your girls?” Rose frowned.

“Errr…” He tugged his ear.

“You have a family?" she asked, eyebrows lowered. 

He put up his hands defensively. “I promise, it's not what you're thinking--”

She ran her hand through her messy hair. “Blonde. Flight attendant. You know what they say. Coffee, tea, or me? No strings attached. I'll be in another city tomorrow, right?” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

John shook his head. “No. That is not what I was thinking--”

“I think you should go now.” She crossed her arms protectively, looking away. 

John’s shoulders slumped, and he headed for the door. He lifted his coat from the hook, draped his tie around his neck, but then stopped. “It’s for the best. You’ll be going back to LA anyway and I’ll never see you again. I enjoyed our company, Rose, and I never expected anything from you." And then he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

She clenched her fists. Her face burned. The hair on the back of her neck tingled. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. _Why was it that the nicest man I've met in years is married?_ But then she remembered something he’d said last night. _I haven’t kissed a woman in three years._ “That doesn’t make any sense.” She sighed. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m leaving soon.”

Rose knew what she needed. A long soak in the tub with that fizzy, fragrant, exorbitantly expensive pink bath bomb from Lush. And she needed to talk to Amy. “Hope that bookstore is open Saturdays.”


	4. The Beautiful Family

“Hi. I know this is sorta rude, but…” Rose held her mobile up, waving it for the woman at the register.

“Not rude at all. You’re the third person this morning. I even have a little area in back set up for the purpose. Brings in customers.”

“Thanks,” smiled Rose.

“I’m Harriet, the owner of Flydale Books. I’m also an MP.

“You’re an MP?” Rose was wide-eyed.

“Yes. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, believe me. I’m home for the holidays. Whenever I’m home I like to run my shop. I haven’t seen you around before. The village is so small that I know everyone.”

“I’m letting the Mott cottage for the holidays.”

“Oh how wonderful! Wilf and his late wife — God rest her soul — used to host the most wonderful New Year’s Eve open house. He hasn’t been back much since she passed. I suppose the place holds too many memories. Life goes on.” Harriet nodded. “Even so, I am so glad that you are able to spend Christmas there. Did John make sure that the lights were one for your arrival? And wood was split? What about food? Is your family with you?” she asked. The questions were friendly, not prying.

“No family, it's just me. My parents went on a cruise. I didn’t want to intrude.” She scrunched her nose. “Plus there’s that whole matchmaking thing. Mums." She smirked.

“That’s a mother’s job.” She smiled. “How long are you in town?” Harriet hand-wrote the price of a new book in pencil inside of the cover.

She sighed. “Not sure. Was planning on staying almost two weeks, but I’m wondering if that is such a good idea now,” she said with a slight edge to her voice. “I might go back home to Los Angeles first flight I can get.”

“Oh, no. Really? What a shame. Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“No, that’s not it. The home is charming. I love it. But something’s come up.”

“Well I hope things are sorted out so that you can stay. Christmas in Flydale North is truly special. Make sure you have biscuits ready because carolers will visit you. And the Christmas Eve service at the church is lovely.”

Rose sighed, and smiled as best as she could. She felt more foolish than anything.

“At least come to the lighting of the village Christmas tree? Very festive. Victorian carolers, hot wassail, homemade treats. It’s tonight on the village green.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’ve taken too much of your time. You came in to make a call. I won’t keep you any longer, dear.” Harriet pointed to the back of the store.

Ironically, the best cellular coverage was in the travel section of the shop. The light in the shop was warm and inviting, and there was a comfortable, well-worn leather chair. Other than Harriet, she was alone.

Rose dropped into the chair. “Please answer. Please answer.”

_Hi, this is Amy. I’m probably a mile high, so leave a message._

Rose frowned. “Hi Amy. Call me when you can. Leave a message if I don’t answer. This isn’t a texting convo. I need to talk. Bye.” For a fleeting moment, she pondered calling Donna, but then she remembered the time zones. And how awkward would that conversation be?

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then stood from the chair with a groan. But soon, she was lost in a beautiful travel book about Spain. She became a customer, too.

oOo 

“Oh, I’m so glad you came. Rose, this is my friend Sarah Jane." Harriet introduced. "She owns the bakery. Rose is visiting Flydale for the holidays. She’s letting the Mott cottage.”

“Oh, I heard that they’d listed the home for house swap," Sarah Jane said. "John told me that Donna had wanted to get away for the holidays. So she's staying at your home?” the pretty brunette asked.

“Yeah. I’m living in Los Angeles, and I wanted to come home for Christmas. Parents on a trip though. I didn't want to be alone in London, so I listed my place. Donna Noble swapped with me.”

Sarah Jane clucked her tongue. “Poor Donna. Such a shame that she had to go through that. But it's for the best, even if she doesn’t understand that now. Lance was not the man for her.” 

“She’ll find someone. She’s a wonderful person,” Harriet added. "And her brother is so very supportive. Comes from experience, of course."

Rose drew her eyebrows close for a moment. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“So Sarah Jane, you own the bakery, then? Do you happen to bake raspberry tartlets?” Rose asked.

“They’re my speciality. Have you had one?”

“I had one this morning. Gorgeous. The banana muffin was delicious too. Someone bought pastries for me.“

"John bought all of the raspberry tarts. So he must've brought you breakfast?"

"I bet Donna put him up to it. Wanted to make sure you were taken care of, bless her heart," Harriet suggested to Rose.

Sarah Jane turned to Harriet. “That John Smith. I don't know how he stays so skinny. He bought that entire bake of tartlets this morning! Lady Cassandra O'Brien was none too happy. First she comes charging in and jumps the queue. And then when she sees I’m out of them, she demands that I make more. Says that I should have saved some for her — that I should have known that she was hosting a Christmas tea today. I told her that she should have placed an order. I can't read the woman's mind."

"Lady Cassandra only thinks of herself. She thinks it’s 1895.” Harriet clucked. “Rose, the woman still has a lady’s maid to help her dress for dinner. Thinks she's the mistress of Downton Abbey,” Harriet whispered.

Sarah Jane turned back to Rose. "You must think we’re a terrible pair of gossips.”

Rose smiled wickedly. “I’da been tempted ta slap her."

The three women cackled.

"I’ve met quite a few people like that on my job. Some people feel so entitled."

"I didn't ask before, what is it that you do?" Harriet asked.

"I’m an international flight attendant."

"Oh, what a brilliant job," Sarah Jane enthused.

"Most of the time it is. But I have had my share of Cassandras. Usually I just grin through my teeth and nod. But if another passenger is being treated rudely, I step in."

“You must lead a very exciting life! The three of us should sit for a nice cup of tea before you go. I’m sure you have some wonderful stories.”

Rose tipped her head and smiled warmly. “I’d like that. Very much.”

“Well it was certainly kind of John to bring you breakfast,” Sarah Jane noted.

Rose just nodded. “I think I’m going to take a look around.”

“Nice to meet you Rose,” said Sarah Jane.

“Perhaps we can persuade you to stay a few more days? At least through Christmas?” Harriet asked Rose.

She inclined her head, and then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Pop by the bakery,” began Sarah Jane.

“And come to the book shop,” added Harriet. "That is if you stay after all."

Rose thought for a moment. _John doesn't even live in Flydale. Said he was only here for the night. Why should I let one bad thing ruin my holiday?_ “You know, I’ve changed my mind. I am going to stay.”

"Oh, I'm so glad," Harriet enthused. "We're both closed tomorrow. Maybe we should just make plans now? How about Chinese tomorrow night? You don't have a car, I assume. I'll pick you up. Let's say five?"

After they separated, Rose sauntered around the vendor booths. She found a glass artist displaying her Christmas ornaments. "These are beautiful," Rose said, entranced. 

“This is real gold dust," the artist said in a tiny voice, cradling a delicate bauble. 

Rose gently traced the ribbons of pink and gold swirling around the ball with her fingertip. It reminded her of a sunrise she'd seen in Fiji. Through the airport window. “How much is it?" she asked. 

"£15."

"But I like this one, too. It looks like midnight." Flecks of silver leaf twinkled against a field of midnight, cobalt, and sapphire. "How about both of them for £25?" Rose asked.

"Fair enough," the artist agreed. She wrapped the ornaments in white tissue and put them in a pretty bag. "They will look beautiful on your tree. Happy Christmas."

Oh. A tree. Now that I'm staying, maybe I should get a little tree, Rose thought to herself.

She also bought a fuzzy, rainbow-hued, handmade scarf. "Happy Christmas to me!" She wrapped it around her neck twice to stave off of the cold.

And then she saw him. No, them. The family of four. His blonde wife was ridiculously gorgeous with a fine-featured face, delicate figure, and blonde hair elegantly piled on her head. Two beautiful little girls were there too, one on each side. Rose turned to escape, but she heard her name before she could escape.

“Rose!”

She turned and smiled as pleasantly as she could.

“Hello.” He greeted politely. “Rose, this is Astrid. This very grown up girl is Lucy, and here is my little Sally.“ 

Lucy had long, dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in a mass of curls. Her clothing was the latest tween style -- silver puffer jacket, skinny dark jeans, and a fuzzy red infinity scarf. Sally had slightly messy chestnut brown hair cut in a sweet little bob, held back with a red satin headband with two ladybugs dancing on springs. Her parka was bubblegum pink with a fur-trimmed hood, and her little legs were covered in Bubblegum pink as well. Even her shoes were bubblegum pink -- the kind that lit up when she shuffled her feet.

Rose tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi.” She decided to make a preemptive strike. “I’m letting the Mott cottage for the holidays, and John here spent the night last night. On the couch, of course! He wasn’t fit to drive home, and I think he forgot that Donna had let the home to me.“

“John Smith,” Astrid rolled her eyes. “That was rude, even for you. You shouldn’t have stayed there. Why didn’t you call for a car, or ask Jackson to take you home?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. "You know why."

Rose chewed the inside of her cheek as she observed the exchange.

Astrid stroked his arm, and nodded. She then turned to Rose. “I’m sorry he crashed at the cottage last night. I hope he wasn’t too intrusive. He has a way of taking over.”

Rose half smiled. “You’re a very understanding wife.”

“Wife? I’m not his wife!” She snorted. “I’m these lovely raggamuffins’ nanny.”

“What?” Rose turned towards John.

"Astrid, would you take the girls to see the Li’l Sebastian?"

She nodded, and then quirked her perfectly sculpted eyebrow before giving both Rose and John a coy smile. "Girls," she said, keeping her eyes on the pair, "let's go see the Shetland pony."

"Shetland ponies are for babies!" The older girl rolled her eyes.

“Lucy, go with Astrid please,” John said. “I'll catch up in a few minutes."

The girl let go of her father's hand, crossed her arms and made a show of sulking away.

"Come here, sweetheart." Astrid offered her hand to the younger girl. 

The child put her tiny mitten-covered hand in Astrid's, and hugged a soft ladybug toy close.

Rose crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You let me believe that you were married."

“I never said that. I said I had to get home to my girls." John pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "You are the one who made that assumption. And you wouldn’t let me explain,” he said with a half smile. "Remember?"

She pressed her lips together hard. “I’m sorry I kicked you out into the snow.”

“My trainers did freeze walking back to the pub to get my car,” he pouted slightly.

"You coulda worn those wellies by the front door," she offered.

"They're far too small." He waggled his eyebrows.

Rose blushed at the innuendo.

And then Lucy ran up behind her father.

“Dad, stop talking already. I want to get some roasted chestnuts! You promised roasted chestnuts!”

“What happened to the pony?" he asked.

"He went home. The bloke said Li’L Sebastian was getting cold. Besides, you promised roasted chestnuts. And they always run out," Lucy stated.

"They've only run out one year, Lucy. Don’t exaggerate. I promised roasted chestnuts, and roasted chestnuts we shall have.” He looked down at his curly haired daughter. “I apologize for Lucy. She is too bright for her own good, and outspoken,” he said to Rose.

“Well," Lucy drew out the word, "you are a genius, and you do talk an awful lot, and Mummy always said that I take after you.” She poked him in the side with her elbow. “And Mummy never lied.”

Rose looked away suddenly feeling out of place. She tried to pay attention on a lit Christmas tree nearby.

“Too right.” John wrapped his arm around Lucy's shoulders and hugged her fondly.

“Are you excited for Christmas, Sally?” Rose asked.

The child lifted a shoulder, and looked down.

John scooped the little girl up into his arms. “Do you feel like saying hello, Sally?” he asked kindly.

She shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

“That’s all right.” He kissed her chubby, pink cheek. “Sally is shy.”

“It’s okay to be shy,” said Rose. “My little brother was very shy when he was about your size.”

“You have a brother?” She raised an eyebrow, looking very much like her father. “How old is he?” asked Lucy.

“Ten.”

“Ten? You have a ten year old brother? But you're too old to have a brother. _I’m_ ten.”

“Lucille,” John warned.

“It’s all right. He was a bit of a surprise.” She smiled at John.

“Astrid says that girls mature faster than boys, so it’s really like I’m much older than him.” Lucy fist-bumped Astrid.

"Sorry Lucy interrupted, John." Astrid looked down at the older daughter. "You snuck off. You should’ve done what your dad asked."

"Sorry," the girl said to her father.

"Apology accepted." He ruffled her curly hair.

"Oi! The hair! I worked hard on that."

“And yet one more thing the two of you have in common. You and your dad are so vain about your hair.”

“We both have really great hair,” Lucy said with a proud nod.

“You hair is pretty great, Lucy,” Rose complimented.

“Is mine pretty great too?” John flirted.

Lucy waggled her eyebrows, the image of her father. 

“Oh, there’s Benny,” Astrid announced. “I’ll see you girls on Monday, all right? And save some biscuits for me. I worked hard making those.”

“We all worked hard, didn’t we Sally?” Lucy corrected.

Rose sputtered a laugh. She had a gob just like her dad!

Sally just giggled, and then tucked her little messy head into her daddy's shoulder.

“It was so nice to meet you Rose." Astrid smiled fondly at her. “John, if you want me to stay late on Monday, just let me know. Maybe you’d like to go out to dinner or something?” She grinned.

“Thank you, Astrid." He cleared his throat and tugged his ear.

“Dad, can I take Sally over there to look at the people acting out the nativity? I promise I won’t let her run off.”

“Sure.”

Sally willingly slid out of her Daddy’s arms, and took her big sister’s hand. She turned around and waved as they headed off.

Rose fiddled with her glove-covered fingers. “Your family is beautiful.”

“Aye.”

“Sorry about this morning,” she said, scrunching her face. “I’ve been lied to before by blokes. You know us flight attendants," she sighed, "we’re supposed to be so… you know.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Thank you," he answered, smiling softly. "And I suppose I'm sorry for not being clear."

Rose nodded, and then laughed. "Well that was one helluva misunderstanding. Any other secrets I need to know about?”

“Oh, so you want to get to know me better?”

“Maybe,” she grinned, teasing him with a hint of her tongue.

“I hate pears.” He pulled a face.

“I love pears,” she half smiled.

“No kissing after pears.” 

“Kissing?” she raised an eyebrow.

“We did almost kiss last night — well, this morning, actually.”

Rose blushed and looked away. “Yeah.”

“Oh here’s a good one. I’m adopted. That’s why my last name is Smith and Donna’s is Noble.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Wilf adopted me when I was eight. I fell into the habit of calling him Grandad when Donna made it clear that we were brother and sister. He’s really an amazing man. I hope you get to meet him.” He cleared his throat. “Considering you’re staying in his cottage and all.

“Yeah, I’d like to.” 

“Do you like roasted chestnuts, Miss Rose?” asked Lucy, making Rose startle as the girl snuck up behind.

“I do,” Rose replied.

“Then we’d better go get some before they run out."

"They're not gonna run out, Lucy." John rubbed his eye with his pointer finger.

“Allons-y!” squealed Lucy.

“Allons-y,” whispered Sally.

“Allons-y!” John grinned at Rose.

oOo

Rose watched as the multi-colored bulbs lit up the largest tree on the village green. From the bottom up, strand by strand, the evergreen came to life. Saving the best for last, the star atop the tree illuminated.

“Oh, Daddy, it’s beeeeyouuuuteeeful!” Lucy said, wide-eyed.

"So I'm Daddy again, eh?" 

"You're always Daddy when it's Christmastime." Lucy hugged his side.

“I like the Christmas tree, Daddy,” whispered Sally into her father’s ear.

The crowd clapped and whooped, and then someone started to sing _Hark the Herald Angels Sing_. Soon, everyone had joined in.

“Just like Charlie Brown,” Lucy said, smiling.

And then snow began to fall. Lightly and gently. Just a few flakes. The children began to squeal with joy, catching the flakes in their hands and on their tongues.

“Girls, I have a surprise for you.” He looked at each of his children in turn. “Mr. Jackson has hot cocoa and candy canes.” He looked over at Rose. “He also has wassail. That is, if you want to come.”

She bit her lip, but then smiled. “Sure. I’d like to come.”

“Is Freddy going to be there?” Lucy sing-songed. 

“Yes,” he frowned. 

“Maybe there will be mistletoe,” she said.

“You are ten, Lucy. No mistletoe.”

“Will Mrs. Rosita be there, too?” Sally whispered.

“Yes, Sweetheart, Mrs. Rosita will be there."

“Daddy, I just thought of something!” Lucy giggled, fingers over her mouth. “Mr. Jackson’s married to Rosita, and your friend’s name is Rose.” She giggled some more, looking at Rose. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you married Rose? Get it? ROSE-ita? ROSE?” More giggles.

Rose sputtered a laugh. 

“Lucy," he warned, "Miss Rose is on holiday from the States, staying at your Great Grandad’s cottage.”

Rose covered her mouth with her balled fist and yawned widely. “I’m think I'm going to have to pass on the party. I think the jet lag has finally caught up,” Rose apologized.

“Awwwwww,” Lucy complained. “But you said you’d come!”

“Don’t pester her, Lucille,” John admonished.

“Sorry,” Lucy apologized.

“It’s okay, Lucy. It was very nice to meet you and Sally. Good to see you too, John.” She smiled at each member of the family. 

“Bye Miss Rose,” Sally whispered, offering a small wave of her fingers.

“It was nice seeing you again.” John held out his hand, and Rose took it, intending to shake it. 

Their eyes met. 

He swallowed hard. 

Her cheeks felt hot and flushed. 

He squeezed her hand. He wasn't shaking her hand. He was holding her hand. Rose felt that tingling kind of warmth in her chest. But something else. She also felt the urge to comfort this man. There was sorrow in his tired eyes that she hadn't noticed this morning. 

He didn’t have a wife, and his girls didn’t have a mum. Was there a divorce? Had he been abandoned? Or… was he a widower?


	5. The Tree

“Daddy, Sally talked tonight. To Miss Rose,” Lucy said, looking up at her father who was sitting on her bed.

John looked over at the other twin bed. Sally’s hair was askew, her mouth was open, and she was clutching her precious ladybug. He returned his attention to Lucy, tucking the covers all around her. 

“Is that good and tight?”

“It’s good. Sally talked,” she repeated.

He slowly smiled. “Yeah. Sally talked.”

“She hasn’t talked to a stranger in like, forever.”

He nodded, trying to keep that pricking, stinging feeling behind his eyes under control.

“Daddy, do you like Miss Rose?” She wasn’t teasing him.

“Sweetheart, she’s not from here. Doesn’t even live in England. She lives in Los Angeles. She is just visiting. And we are just friends.”

She sighed. "Bugger.”

"Don't say bugger."

"Can I say darn?"

He nodded. "Darn, indeed. Goodnight, sweet girl.” He kissed both of her cheeks, her forehead, and then her nose.

“Goodnight, Daddy.” Sally repeated the pattern, but added a hug around his neck at the end.

John flipped a switch on a small sphere in the corner, and the ceiling was transformed into the night sky.

oOo

Rose was used to working through the odd feeling of time zone hopping, however she had never become used to the yo-yo sleep schedule once off duty. But for the first time in ages, she felt caught up. The long, deep sleep in the really great bed had proven to be the cure for her ailing body and mind. 

“Fourteen glorious hours of sleep!” she said to herself over her cup of tea and slice of toast. Groceries had magically appeared in the cottage while she had been walking the high street. Couldn’t have been anyone else but John. The thought shouldn’t have made her feel so cared for. Cherished even. "No. He's being professional. Donna made him do it, right?” She groaned into her hands. “I'm just being grateful. No I'm not! Who am I kidding? I like him.”

“I can NOT do this. I live in LA. I don’t even live in England. And John lives here. Not in LA. So no wassail with John, no hot chocolate with John, no chestnuts roasting over an open fire with John. No great hair and brown eyes and thoughtful pastry purchasing and definitely no almost-kissing! OR KISSING!”

"I need a distraction. I need a tree. If I’m going to stay here for Christmas, I’m going to decorate this place properly.”

oOo

The local DIY was surprisingly well-stocked for such a small shop. It was the kind of place that had everything you knew you needed, and anything you didn’t know you needed. The place had everything she needed to decorate the cottage for her Christmas holiday. 

“Fairy lights, red ribbon, origami paper,” said the cashier. “I didn’t know we had origami paper. Louise, did you know we had origami paper?”

“It’s been on that shelf for years. Thank you for taking it off of our hands, ma’am.”

Rose grinned. “Going to make paper chains for my Christmas tree. Oh! Forgot the cellotape.”

“I’ll get it for you, luv, it’s a bit tricky to find,” the older woman, Louise, offered.

“Ta! So, any other ideas on decorating a Christmas tree? I’m visiting for the holidays, and decided to put up a tree, but I don’t have any ornaments.”

“You could gather pinecones and decorate them with glitter — you know, dip in glue first,” suggested Louise.

“That sounds pretty. Don’t tell me you have glitter, too.”

“Of course we do! We have everything.”

Rose took her purchases home, and then set out to find someplace that sold Christmas trees. 

oOo

“I have no way to get this home,” Rose laughed to the man selling the trees. 

“Of course you do,” a familiar voice said from behind.

Rose whipped around and saw John with his girls.

“Hello,” he greeted.

“We always get our tree here,” stated Lucy.

“Always,” whispered Sally to Rose, before she tucked her head into her father’s side.

John squeezed Sally’s shoulder, and smiled. “But that tree just won’t do. It’s far too small. The cottage may be small, but that little thing doesn’t do the cottage justice. Get a bigger one since you now have transport.” John’s hands were behind his back, and he was bouncing on his toes.

“Okay,” Rose said with a slow smile. 


	6. The New Friends

“If you promise not to tell anyone, I have a very juicy rumor to share.”

“Do tell,” said Sarah Jane, leaning in.

“Can I trust you, Rose?” Harriet asked.

“Yeah, of course. I love a good secret.” Her whisky eyes twinkled.

“There will probably be a new Prime Minister soon. There’s going to be a vote of no confidence when we return to Parliament next month.”

“Oh, now that is interesting,” Sarah Jane enthused. “Can I run a story in next week’s paper quoting an anonymous source?”

“You may certainly not!”

“Oh, all right. But I don’t know that it’s a surprise. PM Blon’s nuclear fusion for automobile fuel scheme is a bit risky.”

“Any idea who will be put up for a vote?”

“No. It’s all a bit muddled right now. Lots of in-fighting. Could be almost anyone.”

“You should give it a go,” Rose suggested.

“You really think so?”

“Sure. Why not?” said Rose.

“Thank you, dear, but I’m just a MP from a little village. I don’t know that half of the members even know who I am.” Harriet smiled. “Rose, I couldn’t help but notice that you were with John and his girls at buying a Christmas tree this afternoon.” Harriet took a sip of jasmine tea. “I was out for my walk, and saw the four of you.”

“We didn’t meet there on purpose or anything. It was just an accident,” Rose said defensively.

“I think it’s nice that you’ve found a friend. John and his girls are wonderful. And it’s nice that he has found someone too.”

“He’s been alone far too long,” Sarah Jane said between bites of fried rice.

“His wife was lovely. So kind.”

Rose tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I take it then that his wife died?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” asked Sarah Jane.

Rose shook her head. “I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe he was divorced. The girls mentioned her a few times, but…” 

“We were all in a state of shock. It was very sudden. Idris didn’t know she was ill until it was too late,” Harriet said sympathetically. 

“Poor little Sally. She barely even knew her mum before she was taken from her. And she’s never talked in front of anyone other than her family or people she knows very well.”

Rose shook her head. “But she’s talked to me a few times. Didn’t say very much. I thought she was just shy.”

Harriet and Sarah Jane both raised their eyebrows, and then their mouths blossomed into matching smiles.

“Well then. I think perhaps things have taken a turn for the better for the Smiths,” Harriet said happily.

oOo

On Monday morning, Rose set out to the bakery for a morning treat and cup of tea. Because it was Christmas week, the shops were open on Monday. She pulled open the door, and immediately heard her name.

“Miss Rose! Miss Rose!” Lucy ran up to her and grinned. “Sarah Jane still has raspberry tarts, but I’m having a _kwahsoe_ today. There’s almond paste inside. It is scrummy.”

“A croissant? That sounds delicious. I think I might have one of those too. And your French is very good.”

“Mummy taught me a few words.”

“Good morning, Rose Tyler. Care to join us?” John asked. 

His black puffy jacket was unzipped, and Rose couldn’t help but smile at his Grinch t-shirt. But then she saw the tight jeans he was wearing, and was immediately distracted. _Eyes up front._

“Nice shirt,” she smiled. 

“You making fun of my fashion choices?”

“No! I actually really love it.”

She felt a tug on her sleeve. Sally looked up, and wiggled her finger to beckon Rose to her ear. “I love the Grinch.”

Rose whispered back, “So do I.”

Sally grinned, and then scurried back to her father’s side.

oOo

Rose looked at the book covers on the new releases table.

“Oh, this is a wonderful story.” Harriet handed Rose a thick book.

“Journey’s End,” Rose read.

“It’s in the science fiction genre, but doesn’t really feel like it when you’re reading it,” Harriet interrupted.

“Yeah?” Rose opened the book and read the description.

“I adored every single word,” Harriet gushed. “It is the story of a woman who finds herself trapped in an alternate universe, separated from the love of her life. But she finds a way to travel between universes, hopping from place to place. Truly an extraordinary tale.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And it’s not science fiction?”

“I promise. You will adore it. Very romantic. Perhaps even a bit inspirational?”

Rose’s attention snapped up, and she cleared her throat. “All right, I trust you. I think,” she furrowed her brow comically. 

“John really likes this writer,” Harriet added.

“Oh?” Rose asked as nonchalant as she could.

“The author is a friend of his.”

“Jack Harkness." Rose looked at his portrait. “He’s a bit pretty.” 

“That he is.” Harriet smiled. “But so is John.”

Rose turned away, knowing that her face was now bright red, if the burning on her cheeks was any indication.

oOo

“Donna, I have a bit of a problem,” John said. 

“I don’t want to hear your problems, Spaceman. I’m on vacay, and I’m drinking something fruity and tropical with tequila. And it’s in a pineapple. No problems allowed.”

“But Donna,” he whinged.

“You aren’t going to stop until I listen, are you?”

“It’s important.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Out with it.”

“I met Rose the other night. At the cottage. And then I saw her again at the village tree-lighting.” The words hung in the air. “And then again at the tree lot. And the bakery.”

Donna gasped dramatically. “That. Is. TRAGIC!”

“Donna, this is serious. You didn’t let me finish. Sally’s been talking. To Rose.”

The silence was thick for a moment. 

“She talked?” Donna managed to ask without her voice cracking.

“Yeah. She said a few sentences.”

“What do you think happened?” Donna asked kindly.

“I don’t know. I can’t simply assume it was because Rose was there.” He sighed.

“But Rose was there. You can’t assume that wasn’t the reason, either.”

"I'm trying hard to ignore the fact that she lives in LA."

"John, but Sally talked. Isn’t that good?”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s great. What do I do now?” he asked.

“You just keep living life. You’re on break now, right?”

“Finally. Thankfully.”

“Take the girls ice skating or something. They'll love skating. Ask Rose if she’d like to come.”

“I can’t ask her out on a date, Donna!” 

“Why not? She’s nice, and she’s pretty, too. I saw her on FaceTime.”

“I’m not ready to go on a date.”

“Oh would you shut it! Ready? No one is ever ready. Take the good things in life when you can, John,” Donna said softly. “Even if you only end up having Rose with you for a few weeks, don’t let a little bit of happiness slip by. Life goes by quickly. You know that more than most people, John.”

The line was silent.

“Okay. Don’t call it a date then,” Donna suggested. “Call it… being a tour guide. You’re probably the only person she knows in Flydale, right? The place isn’t a metropolis. She’s going to get bored at some point.”

“Tour guide? For Flydale? Where am I going to take her? Show her Mr. Copper’s tiny library in that phone box?”

“Call it an experiment if that suits you better, Dumbo. You being a scientist and all. See if Sally talks again with Rose there.”

He nodded. “Okay. I can work with this. This is a good plan. Now I hope she says yes. If Rose can get our sweet Sally talking, then I’d do almost anything to keep her in England. I’d give her the cottage. And a job.”

"Whoa, boy. Down. One step at a time. But, it's really good to hear a bit of hope in your voice, Brother."

"Hope is good, Donna. I rather like hope." 

"You done now? Because my drink has nearly melted, and Lee will be here any minute with the sushi."

"Who's Lee?"

"Rose's neighbor. He's one of those Internet genius types. He's taking me on one of those ocean fishing trips tomorrow. You know, the kind where you catch those huge fish with the pointy sword nose and huge fins? OhheishereIgottagobye."

John pulled a surprised face and ended the call. "Good for you, Donna."

He walked into the kitchen and took a swig of chocolate milk straight from the carton.

"Daddy, you're silly! Daddies don't drink chocolate milk!" Sally giggled into her chubby little hands. 

"Would you like a glass?" he asked his little girl.

"Yes, please. May I use the green glass, please?"

He shifted the cups, mugs, and glasses around the shelf until he found Sally's favorite glass: emerald green and just her size.

"Your chocolate milk, mi'lady." He bowed low, handing her daughter the glass.

She giggled again, and then blew bubbles in the milk before taking a sip.

"How does ice skating sound tomorrow?" he asked loudly.

“Really?” Lucy shouted from the other room.

"And I thought, maybe..." A swooping feeling surged in his belly, tingly and warm. "I thought I would invite Miss Rose." 

He felt a tiny tug on his pant leg. The beaming, expectant face of his little Sally looked up at him. She beckoned him down to her level to listen to her secret.

"Yes please, Daddy. Please invite Miss Rose," she whispered into his ear. "She makes you smile."

John scooped up his little girl into his arms. He pulled up her red striped t-shirt dotted with ladybugs, and blew against her belly until she was giggling uncontrollably.

Perhaps this wasn't going to be a scientific experiment after all. But he still had to treat it as such.


	7. The Book

The tree was dazzling, adorned with far too many fairy lights. She’d felt like a child again as she’d glittered the pinecones. Saving the two special glass ornaments for last, she hung then in places of honor on the topmost branches of her tree. She’d lost all sense of time making the paper chain, and had made it far too long, so she had hung the excess across the arched opening from the entryway into the lounge. 

And now Rose was snuggled up under the Really Great Duvet drinking a cup of tea. She was fully invested in her new book. Harriet had been right. It _was_ very romantic, and her heart was broken for Marion and her time traveling Doctor. 

She heard the cheerful voices of those two beautiful little girls and their wonderful father. She mentally kicked herself. _No. Not wonderful. Kind and hospitable. That’s all._

She marked her place in the book, and hurried to answer the door. _Hurrying because it’s cold out and I don’t want the girls to catch a chill._ She tried to shake the increasingly alarming thoughts from her head, but they were stubborn. That now-frequent swooping-in-the-belly feeling surged as she opened the door even before anyone could knock.

“Hi Miss Rose!” Lucy greeted brightly. “Hope you haven’t eaten, because we brought pizza. It was Daddy’s idea.”

“Hello,” whispered Sally. She waved shyly, and then tucked her head into her Daddy’s leg.

“Hope you don’t mind us popping in. Thought you could use a bit of Christmas cheer.”

“Your tree is so pretty,” Lucy cooed. She shoved the large, flat box into her father’s hands, and then ran over to get a closer look. “Daddy! She has two Ursula ones! Look!” Lucy pointed at the works of art hanging prominently. 

“Isn’t Ursula brilliant? For the last several years we’ve bought at least one of her creations.” John’s voice softened slightly. “Have, oh, 15 of them now? Isn’t that right, Lucy?”

“Mummy and Ursula were best friends,” Lucy shared easily, returning to the foyer. “So Ursula makes them special for us every year. We pick the colors, and she surprises us. This year we chose orange and purple.”

“Correction, you girls chose orange and purple. It’s very… bright.” 

“I like the pink and green one best,” Sally whispered, and then hid her face again.

The corners of John’s mouth twitched, and then turned up ever so slightly. “Girls, why don’t you go into the kitchen. Lucy, fill the kettle with water and flip it on. You know where the mugs are. And Sally… errr… Watch Lucy and guard the mugs.”

Rose bit her lip and fiddled with the hem of her fuzzy hoodie. “You brought pizza?” she asked. 

“We did. It was the girls’ idea. Have you eaten?”

“Lucy said it was your idea,” Rose corrected.

He tugged on his ear. “It was a group decision. Let’s go sit down. Lucy’s very good at making tea.” 

Rose’s breath hitched as John placed his hand low on her back, guiding her to the sofa.

“I — We — Would you come ice skating with us? I am taking the girls tomorrow. It’s a bit of a drive, but the rink is brilliant. Outdoors, fairy lights, hot chocolate, music, the whole shebang.”

“Oh. Well—“

“Don’t feel obligated, of course. You must have plans. This is your holiday after all.”

“No, that’s not it.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just that I don’t know how to skate.”

“That’s all? Well Rose Tyler, I happen to be a very good skater. I can stay upright and everything!”

They both laughed.

“Sure. I’d love to come. Thank you.”

John looked around the room. “Your decorations are brilliant.”

“Thanks. I made them myself,” she said proudly. “Chains, and glittered pine cones.”

“Lucy groans when I insist on putting her funny little ornaments on the tree. The ones with pipe cleaners and macaroni painted red and green are my favorite.”

“Mum insists on putting those ones up, too. And now she has Tony’s to put up.”

He laughed and shook his head. “It’s sorta strange imagining you with a ten year old brother.”

“Sorta daft, isn’t it?” She laughed. “Tony was a surprise. I lost my Dad when I was very little. He was hit by a car.” She skipped over the subject. “Anyway, Mum remarried when I was about eight. Pete’s wonderful. He’s my dad.” She raised a shoulder.

John swallowed hard and nodded.

“So, what time should I be ready to go skating?”

“We will pick you up around eleven. We’ll grab a bite to eat on the way, and have the whole afternoon to skate. But the big question is, do you sing?” 

“Sing?” she laughed.

“Yes. We sing in the car. Very loudly. And very badly.”

“No problem there. I can definitely sing very badly.”

He looked at her for a moment. “It’s a date then…?”

Her eyes went a bit wide. “Date?”

He nodded with self confidence. “Yes. I’m asking you out on a date.”

Rose tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay.”

“Brilliant!”

“Oh! You’re reading one of my favorite authors! Good old Jack Harkness. We grew up together.” He picked up the hardcover. 

“This story is brilliant.” 

“Where are you right now?” He wiped his hand over the embossed cover. The hand-drawn illustration was beautiful — a woman walking away from the reader into a field of stars and nebulae.

“It’s the part on that planet, Midnight. Where she’s able to see him on that telly screen on the flying tour bus thing, but his back is to her. I actually shouted at him to turn around!”

“I love how Jack tells the stories from both of their perspectives. I could feel his aching, his loss. He needs her.”

“But he also knows he needs people to keep him sane,” Rose added. “Oh, I cried when she found him too late — drowned in the Thames.”

“Notice that his friend is named Donna? My Donna has been my lifeline, too.”

Rose nodded. “It’s nice to have someone. You know, to be there for you. A hand to hold.”

“A hand to hold. I like that.”

“Yeah? I like that too.”

He reached and took her hand and pulled it into his lap, and stroked his thumb over her soft skin.

“I sort of feel like Marion. In the book.” She looked down at the copy of _Journey’s End_.

“How so?”

“Jumping from place to place, not quite finding what I’m looking for. Knowing that there’s gotta be something more out there. I’m not separated from the love of my life, of course,” she smiled cheekily at him.

“What if I told you I felt like the Doctor.” John’s face was serious. He picked up the book with his free hand, and then opened it to the dedication page, motioning for her to read.

“To John. Here’s to finding your Marion.” She studied his face.

“I’m John. He’s me. Jack has been a good friend. He wrote it when I was going through a very dark time.”

“So he’s your matchmaker then?” she asked with a bit of humor.

He chuckled. “Something like that. I suppose he meant that he hoped I’d find happiness again. Contentment. Don’t get me wrong. My girls are my world. I love them so completely and so dearly that sometimes I can’t breathe when I think of them. They are beautiful - their mere existence — they’re beautiful. Such amazing creatures.”

Rose couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “You love them so much.”

“Aye.” His face broke into a brilliant smile.

“Daddy!” Lucy rolled her eyes. “We’ve been waiting and waiting in the kitchen. The tea water is done, and the pizza is on plates and we want to eat!”

“Yes Daddy, we want to eat,” Sally added, whispering.

“I believe we’ve been summoned,” Rose said. 

John stood, and pulled her from the sofa — their hands still clasped.


	8. The Fall

Rose’s mobile chirped. “I need to take this,” she said, jogging to the back of the book shop.

“Amy! It’s about time. Been waiting for your call for—“

“Rose, I’m engaged. ENGAGED! Rory finally asked me!”

The women both squealed.

“And I’ve been approved for transfer to New York City. That’s his hub.”

“Amy, that is fantastic. I’m very happy for you,” Rose choked back a sob. _Why do I feel like crying? I should be happy for her. I am happy for her but…_

“Now what was so urgent? Talk to me,” Amy ordered, breaking Rose out of her tumbling thoughts.

Rose sighed. “Amy, something has happened. I met—”

“You met someone.” 

Rose was quiet for a few beats. “I don’t want to be in Los Angeles anymore. I miss England.”

“You don’t want to be away from this person you met, right? And the problem is…?

“Scared? Maybe? It’s a big change. But there’s more. And it’s complicated. Really complicated.”

“Oh no you don’t Rose. Don’t you dare tell me he’s married and is promising you that he’ll leave his wife for you.”

“Your mind went straight there?” Rose almost screeched. “No. Nothing like that. He has two beautiful daughters. And he’s a widower.”

“Oh. Wow. That is a bit complicated. What’s he like?”

“Funny. Brilliant. He’s a professor at Oxford. And,” she sighed, “he is absolutely gorgeous. And kind. And thoughtful. And he has a gob that doesn’t stop. And his girls are amazing. The older one is ten. She’s a bit cheeky, that Lucy, but for some reason, it isn’t irritating. It’s more like she’s so bright that she hasn’t figured out a way to reign it in. And little Sally. So sweet. So shy. But I think it's because she's had a hard time since her Mum died.”

“How long ago?”

“I don't know. I think it's been a while, three years maybe? And Amy, she hasn’t talked to anyone but family and close friends since her Mum died. Until me.”

“Rose, you have to stay. Forget about the flat. Stay there. Even if nothing happens with this amazing bloke, it’s time for you to go home to England anyway. I haven’t heard you sound so happy since we met.”

Rose paused a moment. “Flying has become such a chore. I thought I’d see the world. Who would have thought it would end up being same-old-same-old, beans and toast and chips for five years now. I don’t have time to date, let alone even meet someone. I never get to visit the places that I fly to.”

“Keep going, you’re making a very strong case.”

“When I got here, I didn’t realize just how tired I’ve been. I’ve slept and slept. And I’m finally feeling rested again. And this village, it’s brilliant. There are little shops, and I’ve actually met people. Nice people. We’ve had dinner even. And I bought a Christmas tree and decorated it. Went to the village tree lighting, and the cottage is amazing and—”

“ROSE! You’ve already convinced yourself! But you’re fighting it. Stop fighting. Do this for you.” Amy’s voice cut out. “Oh, gotta go. It’s Rory. Bye.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Rose with a churning stomach: how was it possible for her to feel the weight of fear on her shoulders, but also have a lightness in her heart?

oOo

“Oh help, oh help,” Rose giggled, “Oh help!”

“I’ve…” John struggled for air as he laughed and laughed. “I’ve got you! Stop kicking! You’re gonna pull me down!”

They crashed to the ice, and both of them groaned on the cold, hard surface. 

“This is much harder than it looks. You lied. You said it’d be ‘easy peasy lemon squeezy’,” she mimicked in his soft Scottish accent.

“I do not sound like that. And I remember it being easier when I was seven. Ouch,” he winced.

“Seven!? You haven’t skated since your were seven?” Rose guffawed. “How are we going to get up?”

“I don’t know, Rose. I just don’t know.” He looked around, legs spread wide on the ice.

“We could crawl to the side.”

“Now that’s just humiliating.”

“Okay,” Rose said confidently. “I have a plan. I’ll get on my hands and knees, and you get yourself up onto your feet using me for help, and then you pull me up.”

“That’s quite a plan you have.”

“Oi! It’ll work.”

“You can do it, Daddy!” Lucy laughed as she and Sally glided by, hand-in-hand, slowly, but gracefully.

“Come on, then. My bum’s getting cold and wet. So on the count of three,” said Rose.

Somehow, they both got to their feet, and then skate-marched to the side of the rink, holding on to each other for dear life, laughing again.

“That was really embarrassing.” John scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Oh, I don’t think it was that bad. But look at your girls. They’re naturals. Especially Sally. I can’t believe she’s never been on skates before.”

“I think she may have a talent for this,” agreed John. “I think I’ll sit this session out. Care to join me for hot cocoa?”

“Only if they have marshmallows.”

“The puffiest.”

oOo

Michael Bublé was crooning _It’s Beginning to Look Like Christmas_ , and those tiny, first flakes of icy snow had begun to fall, pelting the windshield of John’s car. Sally was in her booster seat, head limp against the side cushion. She was hugging her little ladybug. Lucy's head was propped against the tall side of her sister's chair. 

John looked in the rear view mirror. “The girls are holding hands.” 

Rose turned and looked over her shoulder. “That’s so sweet. Do they do that often?”

“No. I’ve never seen them do that before.” He turned and looked at her for a long moment.

Rose sighed and returned his gaze. “I had a good time, John. Thank you for bringing me along with your family.”

“We all had a great time.”

“I’m probably going to be sore tomorrow. And bruised.”

“Make sure to take something tonight for the pain,” he said, earnestly. “Don’t want you to be hurting on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will. I’ll do that and take a long, hot soak in that amazing bathtub.” She blushed, realizing she had said that out loud — and that John had raised an eyebrow. He was smiling wickedly.

She cleared her throat and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Um, I suppose you’ll be going to your family’s home for Christmas? To see your Mum and Granddad?” 

“Yep. Christmas night we’ll go over and have a big dinner and open presents from the extended family. But Christmas Eve is reserved strictly for my girls.”

“That sounds nice. I don’t think it should be any other way.” Rose smiled softly. 

“What are your plans?” he asked.

“Nothing really. I’m truly finding myself relaxing for the first time in years. I don’t know that I’ve been this happy and content in, well, forever. Don’t think I’m daft, but I’ll probably get take-away Chinese, a bottle of wine, and rent a couple of movies. Have a good cuddle in front of the fire.”

“That does sound absolutely _lovely_ ,” he drew out the word, sarcastically. “Wait,” he cringed, "no it doesn’t. I can’t wrap my head around takeaway on Christmas Eve. Should be homemade. You are coming to our house. You are forbidden to say no.”

“But you just said that it’s reserved for you and your girls.”

He turned and looked at her briefly so he could return his eyes to the snowy road. “I want to make an exception this year.”

“Please Miss Rose, please come,” a small voice came from behind them.

Rose turned around. It was Sally. She was sleepy, but awake.

She turned and looked at John, and then back at Sally.

“You heard the young lady,” John said. “How could you ever say no to that sweet little girl?”

“I don’t think I can.” Rose looked down and fiddled with the hem of her pullover. “Okay.”


	9. The Holiday

The next morning, Rose woke up early, fully rested. She stretched, yawned, and then quickly prepared for a day of Christmas shopping. She had presents to buy! She was used to buying gifts for a ten year old boy. Ten year old girls would be much different to buy for. Different and _fun_.

Her first stop was Flydale Books. 

“Hello,” Rose said, chewing her lip.

“Happy Christmas, Rose, dear. Here to make a call?”

“Yes, but also to buy some gifts. But I’m not sure what to get. Do you think you could give me some suggestions?”

“Of course.”

“Um, first one is for a ten year old girl. I’m not sure what she is into these days. But she’s bright.”

“If she’s bright, perhaps a classic children’s book. _Alice in Wonderland_?”

“Innit sorta creepy?” Rose asked, nose crinkled.

“Quite. Oh, I have just the thing. _Anne of Green Gables_.” Harriet led Rose to the children’s section, and showed her three different copies: hardback with a stylized modern cover, paperback, and a green, timeless-looking, fabric covered edition. 

Rose reached for the beautiful green and gold copy, and clutched it to her chest. 

“Anyone else?” Harriet asked.

“Yeah. Two more. Um,” she stalled. “A five year old girl.”

“Do you know what she likes?” Harriet asked without prying.

“Pink, I think,” Rose said, half smiling. “And maybe ladybugs? I've seen her wearing a ladybug shirt, and she has a ladybug plush she carries around. And a ladybug headband.” 

Harriet grinned. “Follow me.” She pulled a picture book from the shelf. “ _Ladybug Girl_. Sally will love this. She’s been looking at it for months.”

“Sally?” Rose bluffed.

“Who else would it be for? You and John and the girls have become good friends. And knowing John, I’m quite sure that he wouldn’t want you to be alone on Christmas. He invited you over, didn’t he?”

She nodded and blushed. “Yeah.”

“Okay then. What about him? Do you have anything in mind?”

She shook her head. “I wish I did. I just don’t know him that well.”

“Yet,” said Harriet. But it was a matter-of-fact statement, not teasing in the least.

Rose cleared her throat. 

“John enjoys journaling. He comes in from time to time and buys himself a journal. It’s been a while since he's ordered a new one, and I have just the right one.” Harriet pulled one from the shelf. 

Rose ran her hand over the brown, pebbled leather cover. It fastened closed with a heavy brass buckle. She opened it, and ran her hand across the smooth, cream-colored paper. The lines were faint, light blue.

“But look at this,” Harriet pointed to the very bottom of the page. “You might miss it if you don’t look carefully.” 

Rose read out loud. “We are such stuff as dreams are made of. _The Tempest_.” 

“Every page has a different quote. This just came in yesterday. I happen to know that John loves literature, Shakespeare especially.”

She opened the book to see the price, which was written in pencil. It was expensive, but also absolutely perfect. _This trip has cost me almost nothing. Free flight. And the house swap was free. Why not?_ “I’ll take it. Do you have gift wrapping service?”

“Of course. How about candy cane stripes for the girls, and gold foil with red satin ribbon for John?”

“Yeah.” Rose swallowed hard. “That’ll be great.” _What am I doing? I’m getting in too deep._

But now she felt the urge to buy more for them. Not buying just to buy, caught up in the Christmas spirit, but because she wanted to. She truly wanted to put smiles on those little girls faces, and to see John’s face light up with that amazing grin of his. She wanted to be a part of their Christmas.

So Rose made her way up and down High Street, reveling in the joy of Christmas Eve.

And all the while, her inner voice whispered, "Come home Rose."

oOo

John and the girls picked Rose up at the Mott Cottage at 3:30. 

“What’d you do? Buy the whole street?” John asked, helping her with two of her three shopping bags.

“Might have,” she grinned. “It isn’t often that I get to buy presents for sweet little girls.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth.

“You do know that Christmas gifts were absolutely unnecessary.”

“You’re a Grinch! You wore that t-shirt because you are the Grinch!”

“Me? I’m the opposite of Grinchy. I’m the Mayor of Whoville. I’m the anti-Grinch!” He raised his eyebrows and nodded.

Rose laughed. “Glad to hear it.”

“Believe me, those girls are disgustingly spoiled. Just wait until you see their room.”

“Oh, I bet they are.”

“Come on then, they’re out in the car. Lucy’s probably fiddling with the radio, re-setting all of my stations to One Direction or Justin Bieber or some other mind-numbing candy floss. Now give me Ian Dury or Elvis or The Who any day.”

“Not sure who Ian Dreary is. But oooooh, yeah. Elvis, when he was still young and fit… big white collar and flared trousers.”

“Rose Tyler, you don’t know who Ian Duuuuurrrry is? I don’t know if I can associate with you any longer.” He sniffed.

She wrinkled her nose. “Probably before my time.”

“Oi! Rude!” he said.

She sputtered a laugh, and bumped his side.

He worried his forehead and stopped, halfway down the path, ankle deep in snow. “You don’t think I’m too old, do you?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I think you’re just right.” _Did I say that out loud?_ She blanched, peeking at him from the corner of her eye. He was walking a little bit taller, and wore a smug grin. 

“Careful now,” he warned. “This part’s tricky. The sun hits this area just right, snow melts, and then it ices over.”

“Found that out already. Ended up flat on my back the first night. You can sorta still see the snow angel I made.”

“An angel made by an angel,” he said.

Rose rolled her eyes, but her face flushed hot. 

John opened the boot of his car, the gift bags were safely stowed, and then they were off. 

“Lucy, how many times have I told you not to muck with my radio?”

Lucy sang-shouted along with the song. ”Grandma got over by a reindeer, walking home from our house Christmas Eve." 

Rose joined in, just as loudly. "You can say there’s no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe.”

John groaned, but Rose and the girls just giggled, singing together between girlish peals of laughter. And soon, John was singing along to the cheerful Christmas songs, even the cheesy ones. 

And Sally was smiling.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie, Miss Rose?” asked Lucy.

“Oh, that’s a hard one. So many of them. I’m quite fond of _Scrooge_ though. It’s an old black and white version of _A Christmas Carol_. I remember watching it with my Gran on the telly.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant rendition of _A Christmas Carol_. You have very good taste,” John complimented. “At least you didn’t say _It’s a Wonderful Life_.”

“What?” she asked. “Who doesn’t love George Bailey? And Mary? And Bert and Ernie? And falling in the swimming pool at the dance?”

“Me, that’s who. It’s emotionally manipulative.”

Rose squinted and shook her head. “No, it’s perfect. Every single life is important. And everyone makes a difference. No matter how unimportant they may feel, everyone is important.”

John looked over at her, frowned slightly, but then nodded. “Maybe I’ll give it another try. Watch it with different eyes.”

“We’re home! We’re home! See our lights, Miss Rose? Daddy put those up this morning! He hasn’t done the roof in ages, usually only does the door and windows, but this year, he went on the roof!”

“It’s lovely, John. And so is your home.”

“I like the blue lights,” Sally whispered.

“I like the flashing red and green ones,” Lucy added, bouncing on the seat.

“Everybody out. We have things to do before Santa comes.”

“There’s no…” Lucy began.

“Lucy,” her father warned, inclining his head towards his little Sally.

“There’s no lights on the neighbor’s house,” covered Lucy.

“They celebrate Hanukkah,” John explained. “First night of Hanukkah is tonight. They’ll light their menorah in the window after sundown.”

“Oh, that’s right! I love their window menorah,” Lucy enthused.

Rose leaned on the car while John opened the boot. Every word out of Lucy’s mouth was an exclamation of pure happiness and joy. And loud. Rose smiled remembering what it was like to be a child at Christmastime. The very sophisticated tween had become a wide-eyed child again. And Sally was bouncing.

oOo

“We wait and wait and run around and do all of this stuff for Christmas, and then it's here and gone in a second. It’s mental,” Rose said as she helped John bring dinner to the table. “Do you always have the same food on Christmas Eve?”

“Nope. There’s a whole universe of food out there. Why stick with one thing?”

“I like that,” she said, grinning. “How do you decide?”

“Pin the tail on the donkey, well, more like poke the pin in the map.”

“So this year it’s the US?”

“Texas, y’all.”

“That’s a really bad accent, John.” Rose giggled.

“How would you know?”

“Uh, flight attendant? Remember? I’ve heard ‘em all.”

“Right. So this year, it’s tamales. I also have Margaritas, sin tequila y Cointreau for the girls of course. ”

“Delicioso!” Rose said. “Do the girls know what’s for dinner?”

“They helped. Tamales are labor intensive. And finding the corn husks wasn’t that easy. Ended up ordering them from a little shop in San Antonio, Texas.”

“I’ve been there. One of the few places I’ve actually been able to explore. The River Walk is gorgeous. Just don’t go in August. I think I took three showers that day.” She crinkled her nose.

“Maybe you should go again? At a better time of year? Or,“ he cleared his throat. “Maybe, er, maybe we could go? Together?"

Rose fiddled with her earring. 

"Or-- or not," John back pedaled.

“No. I mean yeah. Yeah," she stuttered. "That would be nice." She smiled, biting her lip. "I get free tickets. Free for you and the girls, too.” She blushed and then composed herself when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grinning. “So. Anything else to bring to the table?”

“The tortilla crisps are—“ 

“That’s tortilla _chips.”_ Rose bumped her shoulder against his arm playfully.

“Oh, that’s right. And in the refrigerator, there's queso, and salsa — watch out, it’s very spicy - and also fresh guacamole.”

Soon, they were around the table. 

“Dig in, everybody.”

From her booster seat, Sally leaned close to her daddy’s ear. “Daddy, what about the song?” But she didn’t whisper. Her voice was just quiet.

John wrapped his arm around the child, and kissed the top of her blonde head.

"Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad. Prospero Año y Felicidad…”

Rose clapped, and John whistled through his fingers.

“Last year was Germany, and the year before that was France, and before that was Lithuania, and before that was—“

“Mummy started the tradition.” For the first time since Rose had met the Smith family, Sally’s voice was full and clear.

“Time to eat,” John said without missing a beat.

“Miss Rose, Mummy’s favorite was Scottish, but I never gots to tried Scottish ‘cos I wasn’t bornded yet,” Sally chirped.

Lucy reached for the platter. “Scottish definitely wasn’t my favorite. She made us eat haggis.” The girl shuddered.

“Hold on, Lucy. Miss Rose first,” John said flatly.

Rose offered him a strained smile, and then took two of the corn-husk wrapped delicacies.

“And here’s a tamale for Sally.” John placed one on her plate. “And here’s one for Lucy.”

“I want three,” Lucy corrected.

“Say please. Why don’t you start out with two.”

“Mummy would've let me have three."

"Lucille," he warned.

"How about two and a half? Please?” she countered.

John half smiled. “Two and a half.”

They stuffed themselves on tamales, and then shared the tortilla chips and dips, digging into the bowls, laughing at how spicy the salsa was. John picked up the platter, and took it with him into the lounge. The girls ran and sat by the tree, and began to shake the presents. Lucy helped Sally recognize her name on the gift tags.

John patted the sofa, and Rose joined him. He put his arm around her, and pulled her closer, but not too close.

“I don’t make the girls wait for the gifts to be doled out one by one. I kind of like the free-for-all present opening! Being a kid waiting for Christmas is hard enough, and Christmas at my mother's home is all very orderly and organized.”

“John,” Rose said, turning to him. “You are a great dad.” Her eyes were soft.

John gazed into her eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot to me,” he said quietly.

Lucy squealed, breaking the silence. “This necklace is beautiful, Miss Rose! Did Mrs. Ursula make this?” She held up the necklace, and watched the white and gold glass beads shimmering in the firelight. “I’m going to wear this to church tonight. Will you put it on me, please?”

“Sure,” replied John.

“No, I meant Miss Rose.”

John smiled at Rose, one eyebrow raised.

“I’d love to.” 

“Daddy, Daddy, it’s Ladybug Girl! Miss Rose bought me Ladybug Girl!” Sally tackled Rose while she was still on the floor, jumping onto her lap. She gave her a tight squeeze. “Thank you Miss Rose. Thank you.” She hugged her again.

Rose hugged her back, as John looked on, teary-eyed. He took off his glasses, and pressed his palms to his eyes.

“There’s another one from me, Sally,” Rose whispered into the child’s ear.

Sally slid off of Rose’s lap, but not before giving her another squeeze. She carefully removed the paper, revealing a soft baby doll and set of extra clothing.”

“That’s Baby Stella, Sally.” Lucy gave her a sister a hug. “I loved my Baby Stella.”

“I love her so much, Miss Rose.”

Lucy helped Sally remove the doll from the packaging. As soon as the toy was free, Sally hugged her new soft baby.

“Rose, you were far too generous,” John said quietly.

She shook her head. “No. I wanted to do this. You’ve made my visit so much better. I’ve loved being here.”

John reached out his arm, and pulled Rose back onto the sofa. He kissed her lips quickly, but tenderly.

The girls watched, wide-eyed. 

And Rose sat frozen.

Sally ran to her father and jumped on his lap. She burrowed her head into his shoulder, and then whispered something that only he could hear. 

John squeezed his daughter back. “We’ll see,” he said quietly.

“I have one for you,” John told Rose.

“I have one for you, too,” she replied.

“How about after the girls go to bed?” John suggested.

oOo

Rose held Lucy’s hand, and John carried sleeping Sally. While snow had been predicted, the snowstorm had turned out to be much heavier than expected. The roads were dangerously slick, and three that had slid into each other were blocking the road to John’s home. He’d had to park the car three blocks away. They were walking slowly and carefully on the slick pavement.

“I’m so sorry, Rose. I can’t drive you home. It’s too dangerous.”

“Not your fault. It’s not like you’re Snow Miser — you didn’t make this blizzard,” Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth.

“I’m Mister White Christmas, I’m Mister Snow! I'm Mister Icicle, I’m Mister Ten Below, Friends call me Snow Miser, What ever I touch, Turns to snow in my clutch. I’m too much!” Lucy belted out. 

“Ba dum ba dum, baaah dum!” added John.

“Do you like _Year Without a Santa Claus, Miss Rose?”_

“It’s fantastic! 'I'm mister green Christmas, I'm mister sun. I’m mister heat blister, I'm mister 101.'”

John joined in.

“I never wanna see a day under 60 degrees. I’d rather have it 80 or 100 degrees. He's mister green Christmas, he's mister sun. He's mister heat blister, he's mister 101. Bum-ba-bum, baaah dum!”

“Lucy, she knows the songs! Just like Mummy!” Sally exclaimed.

"Yeah, she does." John nodded, and then he looked over at Rose. She was watching him with soft, kind eyes.

“Can we watch _Year Without a Santa Claus,_ Daddy?”

“Nope. Time for bed. The faster you go to sleep, the faster Father Christmas will come,” said John.

“That makes no sense, Dad,” Lucy said, complete with eye roll.

“Will you tuck me in, Miss Rose?” Sally asked quietly.

John swallowed hard, and looked at Rose, imploring her with his eyes.

“Sure, Sweetheart,” she breathed.

Soon the children were asleep, and John and Rose were alone. The lounge was dark save the lights on the Christmas tree and the glow of the crackling fire.


	10. The Gifts

“This is for you.” Rose handed John a handsomely-wrapped gift.

“Thank you.” He shook it. “Doesn’t make a sound.”

“You are a big kid, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” He tore the paper off, and smiled brightly at the journal. “Rose Tyler, I saw this last week at Harriet’s. I’d forgotten my wallet, so I couldn’t buy it.”

“Harriet suggested it.”

“She knows me well.” John kissed her softly, and stroked her hair. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Here’s yours.” John produced a small, rectangular box from his pocket.

Rose pinched her lips, and unwrapped it slowly and carefully, and gasped when she opened it. Inside was a necklace similar to the one she’d given Lucy, but more elaborate. It was the same color as the necklace that Rose had picked for Lucy.

“I have a confession." John tugged his ear. "Ursula sorta spilled the beans. She told me that you bought a necklace for Lucy. And... I decided I'd buy a set in the same color. For you.”

Rose smiled brightly. “I absolutely love it. Thank you. Put the necklace on me?”

“Of course.”

Rose lifted her hair, and turned around so that John could fix the clasp.

“Looks good on you.” He touched the bottom-most glass bead — teardrop shaped — that was settled low on her chest.

She bent her head and kissed his hand before leaning on his shoulder.

“John, would you tell me about your wife?”

There was a long moment of silence.

“So you sussed out that I’m a widower.”

Rose closed her eyes, nodded, and reached for John’s hand. "Harriet and Sarah Jane told me. They thought I already knew, so don't be upset with them. Please." She squeezed his hand, and didn’t let go. “I'm so sorry this happened to you and your girls." 

John leaned his head against hers, and they sat quietly for a while. The fire popped and cracked, the background noise to the weighty quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?“ She looked down, and then back into his eyes. “You don’t have to, but I’m a good listener.”

“I haven’t talked about it to anyone outside of my family. And even then, it’s been a long time. I usually try to ignore it. It’s been harder lately because the girls seem to be talking about her often.” 

“Maybe it’s because you don’t?” Rose suggested. “They must love her a lot.”

He nodded, and then smiled softly. “Yeah. They do.”

“And they’ll never stop. I still love my dad, even though I was very young when he died.”

“Yeah. You do understand don’t you? You grew up without your dad, too,” he stated.

"Yeah."

He squeezed her hand. "No wonder you're so good with the girls. You understand how they feel."

She nodded. "It was hard when I was a kid. I barely remember him, but the feeling of not having him around? Seeing what it was like for other kids to be with their dads... It hurt sometimes. A lot. I understand now that there are all kinds of families. And my mum did a great job raising me on her own until she remarried. And you have made it work brilliantly. I really meant what I said before, John. You are fantastic with them."

Rose pulled him into a hug. She closed her eyes, squeezed him twice, and then rested her head on his shoulder. After a while, they pulled out of their tight embrace, but kept their arms around each other.

“Idris and I married while we were both studying at Oxford.” He smiled softly. “She was in linguistics. And absolutely brilliant.”

“She’d have to be to keep up with you.”

He grinned at the compliment. “We hit it off. Got engaged within a couple of months. My family thought it was too fast. Well, except for Grandad Wilf. He was all for it. Lucy was born the day after our first anniversary, and then Sally came along about five years later. Going to school with a little one was tough, but we managed. Donna helped out. And Grandad Wilf, too.”

John looked out the window at the thick snow falling. “One day, Idris started to feel poorly. We both assumed it was because of our ridiculous schedule. By the time she was diagnosed, it was too late.”

John took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It’s been three years now.”

Without a second thought, Rose squeezed him tightly. He sighed, and melted into her embrace. There were no tears, just slow, steady breathing. 

“Rose Tyler,” John said quietly. “I think you should stay. Move back to England.”

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitating for a moment. “I have a home, and a job, and friends back in LA, and…”

“No, you don’t have a home." His words sped up. "You have a place to sleep. You’ve been hopping from place to place, you said so yourself." He quirked an eyebrow. "You have friends, but is it home? Request a transfer to London.”

She laughed. “Getting London is about the hardest assignment to get. I don’t have enough seniority.”

“Try. Please. I’d drive you to the airport,” he begged. “Your family is in London. And the cottage is yours for as long as you want. Look at the friends you’ve already made. Just in these few days. Sarah Jane. Harriet. And I’m sure Donna will love you if she ever comes home."

"Ever?" Rose questioned.

"Apparently, she’s been seeing a neighbor of yours. Some Internet genius.”

“Lee! Oh that’s brilliant! Lee is very kind.”

“Good. She deserve someone kind. Please, Rose? Stay? We can make it work.”

She chewed her lip. “I can’t make a decision like this so quickly.”

“Lucy adores you. Sally needs you. She hasn’t talked to anyone she doesn’t know since her mother died, Rose. You are the only one. _Just you._ I don’t think you realize how grateful I am to you for that.” His eyes were soft, imploring, vulnerable.

“Now that’s just not fair,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“You know what they say, all’s fair…”

John looked down at her lips, lingering there for a moment before returning his eyes to gaze into hers.

“…in love and war. But I don’t see a war between us happening anytime soon.”

“Love?” she asked, breathily.

“Love. When I know, I know. I have a history of moving fast, apparently.”

“John.” She shook her head, but it wasn’t doubt. “I’m so confused. How is this even possible?”

“It’s possible. Probable even. You feel it too, don’t you? Don’t deny it, Rose. I feel the earth spinning beneath my feet every time I see you. Just the thought of kissing you makes me see stars.”

“John,” she repeated. She lifted her hand, and then cupped his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “John,” she said a second time.

And then she captured his lips, moving her hand to the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair. Rose pulled him down onto the cushions so that he was blanketing her, surrounding her with his essence of sandalwood and warm spices. Their legs were tangled, hands roving, lips gliding, mouths open wide, kissing deeply, but then teasing, sucking on lips, and chewing, his tongue challenging her now-closed lips to open again to him, and then her giving way, and then she turned the tables on him, and he was the tease.

He pulled away for just a moment, stroked her cheek, and then captured her sweet lips anew, starting chastely before escalating in intensity until she was humming her pleasure, deep in her throat. He moved his lips to her neck, and collarbone, and the part of her chest that was visible, and then pushed the collar of her blouse open, seeking the soft swell of her breast with his hungry lips. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed into the lacy edge of her Christmas-red bra. He was on the edge of desperation, fighting the urge to take the next step. 

She drew in a ragged breath. “Stop.”

He lifted his head, and they made eye contact. Their lips were swollen, and a soft red mark was darkening on her collarbone. They sat up, but stayed in each other’s arms.

“I'm sorry John, but it’s too soon.”

“You’re right. It is.” He kissed her hair. “But it isn’t too soon for me to know that I’m falling in love with you.”

She studied his face. “It’s just so sudden. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Sudden isn’t so bad, is it? Skipping over the whole complicated bit?” he said warmly.

“But what if what you’re feeling is wanting a family again? Wanting a mum for your girls?"

"I'd be lying if I said those things weren't true." He paused. “But that’s just a part of it. You are who I want to spend my life with.”

Rose's breathing increased, her chest heaved, her heart raced. "What if this is because Sally is ready to talk? She could’ve been ready without me!”

“No.” He shook his head.

“But how do you know for sure?” Rose tried to pull away, but John kept his arms around her. “It’s the holidays. And we’re obviously attracted to each other. And believe me, I really, really like you, John.” 

“Like.” He released her, and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I’m sorry.” He released her from his arms. “I never should have said anything.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!” Rose pressed her fingertips to her quivering lips and shook her head. “I’m confused. And scared,” she whispered. “I’m trying to talk myself out of this wonderful thing.”

“Then don't.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop." She batted away a tear. "I think about you all the time! And you’re so wonderful. And I think I’m falling in love with you, too. And with your family! And I’m scared that I’m creating this perfect fantasy of instant happiness.” She crossed her arms and legs, closing herself off.

“But aren’t all of those things great things? It doesn't have to be a fantasy. I'm standing right here. Offering you all of it. And this is _real_.” John touched her cheek, turning her head so he could see her face.

She choked back a sob. “I don’t want to leave! But I have to!” Rose covered her face and allowed the tears to fall.

He pulled her into his side and closed his eyes.


	11. The Final Hop

The glaring sun mocked Rose. Palm trees. Mirrored Ray-Bans. Sundresses and flip flops. She closed her eyes and imagined the cold reddening her cheeks, the snow crunching under her shoes. And John’s lips on hers. His fingertips stroking her face. The beautiful girls hugging her. 

Her eyes were red from crying, but she wasn't done. Fresh tears began to fall. She closed the book and set it next to her.

“Rose, what’s wrong?”

She startled.

“You were sitting right there reading, and now you’re crying."

Rose turned to Donna. “Marion found him. And — and — everyone said it would be impossible. They both thought it was. Until it wasn’t anymore. She looked in universe after universe, hopping around, hopping and hopping and hopping from place to place to find him — “ Rose dropped her head into her hands and wept. “And she did! She found him! And they’re finally together!” Rose’s mascara streaked down her face. “And I’ve read this bloody book three times now, and every single time, it ends the same way, and I want my life to end this way, too!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Rose. But go on.”

“It’s me ’n him, and I told him I couldn’t do it, but I can do it. I want to do it.”

“Huh?” Donna sat down next to Rose.

“Don’t you see? I’m in love with your brother!”

“Of course you are,” Donna said softly.

“And I left without saying goodbye. We had Christmas Eve together, and got snowed in, and I was on the sofa, and he was upstairs ‘cos I refused to sleep in his bed, even with him downstairs, because I knew if I did that I’d never leave, and I didn’t even say goodbye to the girls. And he was so open with me. And kind. And I love them, Donna! All of ‘em!”

“So what are you doing here then?”

“I can’t just up and leave! The rent. My job.”

“Oh, pfft.” She flapped her hand. “I’ll take over your rent. I’m staying. Was going to go looking for a place today anyway.”

“What?” Rose breathed.

“I like Lee. He likes me. We want to give it a go,” she said with a simple shrug of the shoulder. “Got nothing to lose, and everything to gain.”

“But your family!”

“They’ve got legs and bank accounts. They could do with a bit of sun. So pasty.” Donna wrinkled her nose. “Don’t know how that brother of mine keeps those freckles of his, him always buried inside that old moldy school of his.”

“I really like his freckles,” Rose choked, smiling. “And his hair too. And his—”

She held up her hands. “You can stop right there, Blondie. I don’t want to know.” But then Donna smiled. “Go back to him. Go back to the girls. I’m flying back tomorrow to settle my affairs. Lee’s coming with me. What do you say to New Year’s at _home_?" 

oOo

“Happy New Year, Spaceman!” Donna hugged her brother. “Lee, this is John. John, Lee. Where are those beautiful girls of yours?”

“Upstairs in their playroom.”

She took off up the stairs, leaving Lee to fend for himself.

“Hello,” the shy man offered his hand.

“You look like someone who could use a drink.”

“Definitely,” Lee nodded.

oOo

“Lucy and Sally, come give me a hug!” 

“Auntie Donna! Auntie Donna!” exclaimed the girls from inside of their play tent.

“Happy New Year, you two!” Donna knelt down to hug them both.

“Did Miss Rose come back with you from Lost Angels?” Sally asked.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “But I did see her, and she told me she misses you both very much.”

“But Daddy’s so sad. And we miss her,” Sally pouted her lip.

“Come on then, let’s get downstairs. I brought Christmas presents from Lost Angels.”

“Yay! Christmas on New Year! Christmas on New Year!” chanted the girls as they scurried downstairs.

oOo

Rose’s mind raced. Her lower lip was sore from nervous chewing. _Is this the right thing? How do I know?_ And then John’s words in that beautiful voice of his flooded her memory:  “But it isn’t too soon for me to know that I’m falling in love with you.”

There was no turning back now anyway. 

Happy noises of laughing and shouting were coming from behind the door. She knocked. And waited. Shifting her weight from leg to leg. Bouncing to keep warm. And then the door opened, and there was John.

Rose fell into his arms. “I’m home.”

oOo

The New Year's Eve party guests were back in their own homes. Lucy and Sally were upstairs in their room, fast asleep. Platters of leftover Christmas cookies, cheeses, breads, and meats were still about the room. Bits of confetti littered the furniture and only a few of the many candles that had been lit in celebration of the night still had flames licking the darkness.

Two strikes of the gong sounded from the mantel clock. 

"You came back." John brushed a lock of hair out of her face. 

Rose leaned into his touch and then drew him into her arms. "I couldn't stay away." She dropped her head onto his shoulder and breathed in the scent of winter air and his crisp cologne that lingered on his wool jumper. "Remember Christmas Eve? When I told you that I _liked_ you?” she asked.

“How could I forget? You broke my heart.” He pulled away so he could see her face, lifting the corner of his mouth. "But you also told me that you thought you might be in love with me."

She looked down and toyed with the hem of her hoodie.

He swallowed hard and looked out the window at the icy, quiet street. "So which is it? Like? Or love?"

"Love. Definitely love."

"I'm glad."

"Can we start over?" Rose shifted so that she was fully facing him, sitting on one leg. “Didn’t it seem impossible, though? Never in a million years would I have thought an escape from LA would have turned out this way.” Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight, partly from fatigue but mainly with love.

“Never say never, Rose Tyler.”

“I fell in love with you in less than a week.” She shook her head, and laughed quietly.

“So you do admit it?" John asked with a wicked smile. "It’s actually love? Not somewhere between like and greatly esteem? Or fondness? A warm feeling in your bosom? Or—“

Rose fisted his jumper and pulled him to her. She plunged her hands into his hair and showed him just how much more than esteem, fondness, or any other state of half-love she was feeling.

And he showed her too — pulling her as close as he could, stroking her hair and running his arms up and down her back, and under her hoodie, but only so that he could feel the warmth of her body — to convince himself without a doubt that she was there.

When the kiss broke, they both smiled and leaned against each other, cheek to cheek. 

“When Donna convinced me to ask you to go ice skating, that's when I knew I was falling in love,” he whispered.

“Yeah? How's that?”

“I tried to tell myself I _wasn't_ asking you out on a date, but that didn't work out so well.” 

Rose smiled, feeling his warm breath against her neck. “All depends upon your perspective. I'd say it worked out pretty well for ya seeing as you’ve got me snogging you on the sofa.”

“So what now?” he asked.

“I doubt that my email has even been seen, but I’ve put in a request for a transfer to Heathrow. Only takes 90 minutes by coach from Oxford. I’ve asked Donna to ask her Grandad if I can rent the cottage indefinitely. I’ll have to get a car, and definitely buy more wood for the cottage,” she grinned. “That place is absolutely _freezing_ in the morning. And fix the telephone or find a better mobile carrier, and—“

“Rose, you’ll make it work. _We’ll_ make it work.”

“Yeah. We will, won’t we?” John kissed her again. “Come on then, you must be tired. Time for bed for my Continent Hopper.”

“Remind me to thank Jack Harkness for me.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because of his book. Marion sorta gave me the courage to know that I could do it. If she could hop dimensions to find her Doctor, then the least I could do was hop a plane to come home to _my_ Doctor.”


	12. Epilogue - The Second Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this story for you, cartersreese. I hope it was "dimension hoppy" enough for you! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

One year later — minus one week — it was a snowy Christmas Eve. Fairy lights adorned the small lounge of the little stone cottage where John and Rose had first met. Rose was radiant in her white satin sheath dress. She'd let her hair down from the elaborate wedding style, and now it was cascading over her shoulders in golden waves.

Lucy and Sally wore rich red velvet dresses. Lucy's was styled to please an all-grown-up eleven year old, and Sally's dress was six-year old fairy-princess — perfectly twirly. 

John’s black bowtie was off, and his collar open. His tuxedo jacket had been tossed aside long ago. 

They’d been married for six hours now. The reception (at Jackson and Rosita’s pub) was over, and their family and friends were off having their own Christmas Eve celebrations. Now it was time for the Smiths to celebrate their first Christmas Eve as a family in the little stone cottage.

“I made you something, Mum,” said Lucy. She handed Rose a small box wrapped in shiny red paper and topped with a fluffy white bow.

“Thank you, Lulu.” Rose unwrapped the gift, and then gasped as she pulled out a delicate glass ball.

"You made this." Rose breathed. 

"Well, I did most of it. Mrs. Ursula did the blowing through the turny metal stick bit, but I drizzled the melted red glass. See? It's our wedding colors. Red and white.”

Rose smiled and then pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “I love it. It’s perfect. Help me pick a spot on the tree?”

“There,” pointed Lucy. “Up high. Next to the other ones.”

“Did you know about this, John?” Rose asked over her shoulder.

“Nope.” He smiled at his older daughter, and winked. “You are a sneaky one, Lucy.”

Lucy grinned.

“I have one for you too, Mummy. I made it.” Sally scrambled under the tree, and produced a package that she’d wrapped herself. 

“Thank you, Ladybug.”

Sally bounced, clapping her hands as she watched Rose open the gift. “I made the frame part. Daddy took the picture. It’s you and me ice skating last week, see?!” 

“I love it!” Rose kissed her new daughter on the cheek, and then hugged her.

“Lucy and Sally, your Mummy and I have one more present for the two of you.”

“I’ll get it!” shouted Sally.

“No, I’ll get it!” Lucy argued.

“You both can get it. It's upstairs in the second bedroom."

The girls looked at each other. Their feet thumped as they I ran up the old, narrow stairwell.

John and Rose waited, and then grinned when they heard, "Bunk beds! Bunk beds!" 

The thundering of feet resumed, and soon the girls were back downstairs, hugging their parents.

"We thought it was time you girls didn't have to share that rickety old bed anymore," Rose explained. “Especially since all of us will be living here soon."

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

"We have decided that we are going to move here. To the cottage," John said.

"Forever? Really?" Sally gasped.

"Yep. And since Harriet is PM now, she's moving to London. She won't be able to run the book shop anymore, so she asked me to run it for her."

"But Mummy, what about flying?" Sally asked. “I like your you-knee-form. You look so pretty in it!”

“Maybe someday I’ll fly again. But for now, I get to be home all the time. No more long trips or missed birthdays or plays or footie games or anything."

"Oh, Mummy, I'm so happy!" Sally hugged Rose.

"So am I, girls," John kissed Rose quickly. “Girls, Auntie Donna and Uncle Lee are here. Now promise us you will be good for them. No fighting. And no pranks, Lucille. No jumping out of cupboards scaring your aunt. Got it?” 

"Yes, Dad," Lucy said with a devilish grin.

"I see those fingers crossed behind your back, Lucille," said Rose. “And no waking up your Auntie and Uncle before eight. The presents will still be there after five tomorrow morning. I promise.”

“Awwwww,” the girls protested.

John snickered as he let in his sister and brother-in-law. 

"Say your goodbyes quickly, young ladies. Your mum and dad need to go to bed,” ordered Donna. They have an early flight for their honeymoon tomorrow." Donna winked at her brother.

"I know what you're winking about Auntie," giggled Sally. "So Daddy and Mummy can have a baby." 

"What?" John gasped.

Sally sighed, exasperated. "You and Mummy. You're going on a honeymoon. So there'll be a baby. 'Cos one time I heard Grandma Sylvia talking with Great Grandad Wilf, and she said that Lucy was praxti-- praxti-- praxticacly a honeymoon baby. But the part I don't understand is the tree part."

"What tree part?" Donna asked, holding back laughter.

"Mummy and Daddy sitting in a TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" she recited. "First comes love, then comes marriage -- and you gots married tonight, and you’re going on a honeymoons tomorrow. Do you eat lots of honey on a honeymoons? And is the moon always out?"

“Honey is a rather brilliant idea,” John said to Rose, voice low.

Rose blushed, and Donna put her hands on her hips.

"Sally Smith!" scolded the child's aunt.

"First comes love, then comes marriage, THEN COMES BABY IN THE BABY CARRIAGE!" Lucy and Sally shouted together. 

Rose spewed a laugh.

John turned to her, hands in his pockets. "You heard our daughter. There is kissing to be had. And babies,” he enunciated.

Rose wiped her tears of laughter from under her eyes. "We do tend to move quickly. Maybe we are destined for a honeymoon baby."

"Oi! You two are already talking babies? You’re ridiculous," Donna said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Come on girls. Your parents need privacy. Let's let your Mum and Dad start that honeymoon of theirs or else they're gonna start it with us still in the room."

"But they kiss with us in the room all the time," Sally frowned. "Hey! How come there's no baby yet? They're married and they kissed at the church.”

"You're too little to understand.” Lucy nodded sagely. 

"I am not too little, I'm six now!" Sally held up six fingers.

“Goodbye my girls, we’ll see you in two weeks.” Rose hugged her sweet children.

“Goodbye, Mummy… I love you… Goodbye, Daddy… Have fun…” the girls shouted over each other.

The door closed, the happy voices faded, and John and Rose sighed at the blessed silence.

"So, Mr. Smith," Rose took his hand, and stroked the brand new, shiny gold band. "We don't have a tree, but we do have a really great bed. What do you say we go upstairs and do some K-I-S-S-I-N-G?"

"I'll grab the honey."


End file.
